


Albion Tea Rooms

by scribblemoose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Cake, Humor, Multi, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different take on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjZKay6gJgM&index=2&list=PLSKvBkdpD-6p7_t8giTWCCcSank4wwx4q">Antique Bakery</a> with Merlin characters and a plot that took on a life of its own. Written for the 2012 Reel Merlin challenge. </p><p> </p><p>  <img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With many, many thanks to Kis for doing a fantastic beta job and providing continual encouragement, and to Colacube for running the Reel Merlin challenge and keeping us all enthusiastic and on-task.
> 
> This was way, way too much fun to write. I hope it's as much fun to read.

**Prologue**

At sixteen, Merlin learned two essential things about himself. As is common among teenagers, these truths came by way of humiliation and despair.

It was a warm summer evening, the light casting everything in soft gold. Merlin stood by the back door to the kitchens, watching the kids playing on the outdoor chess board. Not chess, of course, some elaborate game they'd made up themselves; something that had grown in complexity and scope over the past three weeks to the point where everyone wanted to play and no-one could remember the rules.

Merlin's eyes lifted to look beyond, to the path from the playing fields where a bunch of older lads, a bit older than himself, was coming back from knocking a ball around. Merlin's heart skipped a beat as he saw the tallest one, their leader, hove into view. His voice was rich and deep; his body perfectly proportioned and finely muscled; his hair looked ridiculously soft and he had eyes you could drown in.

Merlin sighed.

The footballers joined a group of girls at the picnic benches beyond the play area, and Merlin made up his mind.

He was in love. He'd known that for every single one of the forty seven days that had passed since he first laid eyes on this man. There were only two days left before they'd be separated forever.

Merlin paused to clean his glasses on the corner of his shirt, then popped them back on his nose, wiped his hands on his apron and set off to take a chance.

As he approached the benches the object of his affections looked up, and smiled a little when Merlin cleared his throat and said a hoarse, "Hello." 

"I have something to ask you," Merlin said, eyeing the strangers around him nervously. He noticed there was a cake on the bench; he hoped he wasn't interrupting someone's birthday, but there weren't any candles. "Something… personal."

There was a shuffle of conversation around the bench, and people moved away, offering them a measure of privacy.

"It's just," Merlin said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "There's the dance. Tomorrow night. I'd like to ask you to go to it."

"I'm already going," the man of Merlin's dreams said. "Everyone is."

"No. I mean, I want you to go _with me_."

It hung between them for a moment, time still around them and Merlin's heart pounding, before Merlin added, just to be clear, "because I'm in love with you."

Laughter, incredulous at first but turning quickly cruel, cut through Merlin like a knife and he blinked back sudden tears. In that instant the warm fantasy that had nestled and grown inside him for the past few weeks was shattered, and he realised he'd made an awful, terrible mistake. What followed hurt horribly, but it was the laughter that made Merlin want to curl up and die in a ditch somewhere.

"You're _in love with me_? You think I'm a nasty little gay boy like you?"

"I… I…"

"Do you know who I am?"

_I thought I did,_ thought Merlin, miserably.

"I like _girls_ , you pathetic little poof. You _disgust_ me."

Merlin could think of nothing to say, nothing to do. He stood there, shaking, hating himself and every other fucking thing in the world more than he'd ever thought possible.

"Are you crying? For fuck's sake, don't be such a _girl_!"

Then he turned and grabbed a handful of cake from the bench, scooped it up and flung it into his Merlin's face with a cold, wet slap of icing and cream and soggy, jam-filled sponge.

In that moment, Merlin knew three things.

He knew what true heartbreak was.

He knew he was so disgusting that no-one would ever want him.

And he knew that he could make cake much, much better than this.

As it turned out, only one of these was true; but that one was enough to change his life forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur Pendragon took out his pen - a weighty, expensive fountain pen, a gift from his father for passing his entrance exam to Winchester - and signed his name with a flourish.

_Arthur Pendragon. Tea Shop Owner._

"Here are your keys, Mr Pendragon, and I'll put your paperwork in here." Ms Wickson slipped a sheaf of documents into a shiny plastic folder embossed with her company's logo. Her nails were immaculately manicured and painted a bright - but in no way garish or distasteful - red. "There's a checklist for you in there, to remind you to contact the utility companies and so on, and a list of local suppliers the previous owners used. Although I don't expect you'll be needing much in the way of fishing tackle or bait!"

Arthur smiled pleasantly. "Well, you never know. Thank you." He took the keys and folder from her.

"If there's anything else I can help you with, don't forget you have a new business support line service for the next six-months, so call me any time. And may I be the first to wish you the very best of luck in your new venture."

Arthur smiled and thanked her again; she lowered her eyes and held onto his hand a little too long. Just in time, and not without regret, Arthur reminded himself not to mix business with pleasure, reclaimed his hand and took his leave.

A few moments later he was getting into his car, tossing the folder on the back seat. He stared at the huge bunch of keys in his hand. He'd done it. He'd actually done it. 

He picked up his phone and dialled. 

"Uncle? You'll never guess what just happened…."

*

Sunday afternoons had been the same for as long as Arthur could remember. With the exception of weekends spent at school (Winchester) or university (BA Economics and Management at Oxford, followed by MBA at the London School of Economics), Arthur had attended Sunday afternoon tea with his father, Uther and his sister, Morgana, every single week. Tea was at Pendragon Hall, seat of the Pendragon family as far back as the sixteenth century. If the weather was inclement they would take tea in the sunroom; in the depths of winter, in the library in front of a roaring fire. But on warm summer days like this one, the Pendragons congregated to take tea on the lawn, in the shade of an oak tree said to be older even than the house.

"So, Arthur. How's the dissertation coming?"

"It's all finished, Father." Arthur watched Gwen, his father's maid, fill his teacup with rich, golden Assam. She never spilt a drop, which always fascinated him. It was all he could manage to squeeze a teabag in a mug without dripping tea everywhere. 

"That's excellent!" Uther exclaimed, as Arthur and Gwen exchanged little smiles. "We should go and celebrate!"

"That's a bit premature," said Morgana. "He hasn't passed yet."

'Thank you for having so much faith in me, dear sister," said Arthur, drily.

"No point counting chickens," said Morgana. 

"My tutor expects me to get a distinction, if you must know."

"Of course you will!" Uther beamed. "And then the world will be your oyster. What are your immediate plans?"

"Volunteering in an orphanage, perhaps?" said Morgana.

Gwen gave Arthur a discreet look of sympathy as she offered him a plate of sandwiches. Arthur took three cucumber and two salmon ones. 

"As it happens, I've acquired my own business," he said. "I signed the papers just yesterday afternoon."

"Really?" Uther looked astonished. "How did you manage that? I didn't release any funds."

"I took out a small business loan. It offers very favourable rates, including free financial services for the first year."

"What on earth did you do that for? I could have financed it for you and you know I can provide any business advice you need!"

"I wanted to do it for myself."

Morgana eyed him shrewdly while toying with the scone on her plate. It was heaped with jam and cream, and yet she managed to take a tiny, delicate bite without so much as a crumb escaping. 

"Perhaps it's something you know that father wouldn't approve of," she said.

Arthur glared at her; Uther frowned. "What sort of business is it, Arthur?"

"Actually, it's a restaurant. Well, tea shop. With cakes and things."

Silence fell over the tea table. Arthur could have sworn that even the birds stopped singing.

"It's in an excellent position on the high street," he said. "Used to be a fishing shop but it's a prime site for catering."

"You don't even like cake!" said Morgana.

"That's not the point. Father's never seen a fractal landscape in his life, but that doesn't stop him making a fortune out of them."

"It's hardly the same thing," said Uther. 

"I would have thought you'd be pleased," said Arthur, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded. "You're always extolling the virtues of self-reliance."

"I hardly think self-reliance is found in a _cake shop_ , Arthur."

'It's a business, just like any other."

"I'm beginning to wonder if Morgana was right. Perhaps it is a bit early to be celebrating your Masters. You're not showing much sign of intelligence, never mind business sense. Really, Arthur, this obsession with independence is getting out of hand. A flat in town is one thing: I can understand a young man's need to to lead a certain 'lifestyle', shall we say. But running a high street cafe is a ridiculous notion! It's below your station and could ruin your reputation. One day you will inherit Camelot Enterprises, this estate and everything else our family has built over the generations. It's about time you faced up to that and behaved with a modicum of responsibility!"

Arthur stared at his plate, cheeks flaming.

"Father," Morgana said, in her most soothing voice. "Don't be too hard on him. It might not be such a bad idea. Like Arthur said, self-reliance is very important. It might be just the experience he needs. You can't really learn all there is to know about business from a University. Look at how much I've picked up from working for you."

Uther gave Arthur a long, cold look.

Morgana continued, putting a gentle hand on Uther's arm. "Why not let Arthur get on with his little experiment. I'll be more than happy to keep an eye on Camelot Media."

"I bet you will," Arthur muttered under his breath.

"Real world experience," said Uther, his resolution cracking a little.

"She's right!" said Arthur. "You're always saying how coddled I am, after all."

Uther sighed a long-suffering sigh. "Very well. This would not have been my choice for you, but I will allow you one year, Arthur, to make a success of your business. If you can pay off your debts in that time and make a decent profit margin - say ten per cent? - I will make you Director of Camelot Media and my official deputy on the Board. If you fail, you will start at the bottom."

"In the mail room?" Morgana suggested, a little too enthusiastically for Arthur's liking.

"No, of course not. He'll join our graduate entrance scheme. That should help fill out any gaps in his education."

"Let's make it six months," said Arthur, regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. But there was no going back. 

"How brave, Arthur," said Morgana.

Uther reached across the table, took Arthur's hand and shook it firmly. "It's a deal."

"Well, good luck, Arthur," said Morgana. "You'll need it, seeing as how you don't know your madeleines from your macaroons."

"Just watch,' said Arthur. "I'm full of surprises."

*

 

The pantry was pleasantly cool and smelled of good things to eat. Gwen had collected together a pile of recipe books and a selection of small cakes left over from tea, which were arranged in neat rows. 

"All right, Mr Pendragon-"

"Arthur. Please, Gwen, call me Arthur. What's Gwen short for, anyway? Gwendolyn?"

"Guinivere, actually."

"That's beautiful."

"Really, Mr Pendragon-"

"Arthur. I insist."

"Very well, _Arthur_. You wanted to know about cake. Well. What do you want to know? How a perfect sponge is made? The difference between fondant icing and buttercream? Would you like to try something? The wild berry custard tarts from Harrods are lovely."

"I'll take your word for it. I really don't like cake much," said Arthur.

Her brow wrinkled into a little frown. "Hmm. Well, I think it's wonderful that you want to stand on your own two feet, but if you don't mind me saying so, it does seem a bit strange to be going into this particular line of business if you don't like cake _at all_. I mean, I know you like tea and you'll be selling that, but cake is important. If you, um, sorry. I shouldn't be saying this."

"I was hoping it might give me a bit of valuable objectivity towards my product if I'm not too involved," said Arthur. 

Gwen looked sceptical. "Really?"

"Well, actually that's something my uncle said. He said that I should try something different. Something that's nothing to do with the media. Something that's closer to the people."

"Is your uncle in business himself, then?"

"Oh yes. Internet, streaming websites, that kind of thing. He's been keeping an eye on me while I was at uni down in London. I used his company as a case-study for my dissertation."

"That's nice."

"I learned a lot from him. Including the fact that if a businessman lives too long in a glass-palace of an office and doesn't get out into the real world, he'll start to make mistakes."

"Well, I'm sure that's very true."

"A business should be forged, not merely inherited."

"Hmm."

"Did you know that most businesses flounder once they've been handed on to the next generation?"

She shook her head. "No, I did not know that. No."

"Well, they do. And I don't want that to happen to me. I want to make my father proud in his retirement. So, here I am. Selling cake. Hopefully."

"I thought Mr Pendragon wasn't very keen on the idea of a cake shop, though?" As soon as she'd spoken, Gwen's hand flew to her mouth and she squeaked out, "Sorry! Oh, I'm sorry!"

Of course she shouldn't repeat anything she'd heard while serving tea, never mind discuss it with Arthur. Uther would be horrified. But Arthur was busy noticing how pretty she looked when she was flustered: dark curls escaping from her ponytail, a slight flush to her cheeks. Kind and sweet. With a sudden burst of affection, Arthur clasped her hand and said, "I don't suppose you'd like to go out with me some time?"

Gwen snatched her hand back. She looked shocked. "Arthur!"

"You could come and work for me! I'm going to need someone to make cakes. Or you could be a waitress! Head waitress even!"

"No! No, I mean, sorry, of course, sorry, but no, I couldn't possibly! The thing is, it's not appropriate, at all, for one thing, and I happen to take things like that very seriously, but even if, and don't think I don't appreciate the offer, I'm very flattered, really, but… I'm seeing someone. I'm seeing a _lot_ of someone. No, I mean, I'm seeing them. A lot. Oh dear."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh. She looked so worried and flustered, and he did feel a touch guilty at having made a pass at her. 

"It's okay, Gwen. Forgive me. So long as he's nice to you. _Is_ he nice to you?"

She nodded and said with great enthusiasm, "Oh yes! Very!" Then she realised what that sounded like, but this time she just burst out laughing, and so did Arthur, and everything was all right between them again.

He found he was pleased about that. 

"Besides," she said. "I'm nowhere near good enough to be your pastry chef, and even a head waitress doesn't earn what I get here."

Arthur sighed theatrically. 

"Stop that," said Gwen, getting a huge cookery book down from the shelf and flicking through the pages. "Come on, let's see how much you remember. What's this?" She pointed to a picture of something covered in icing sugar with bits of almond clinging to it.

"It's a cake."

She hit him on the arm. "No! It's not _just_ a cake. It's a simnel cake. They're traditionally made at Easter time. Details are important."

"Okay, okay." Arthur stared at the pictures in Gwen's cookery book as if he'd never seen a cake before in his life. He honestly felt as if he hadn't. "How do I go about finding a pastry chef, anyway?"

"Well, you could advertise. Although… well, I do know someone. He's very good. He trained in Paris and then worked down in London for several of the big hotels. He arrived in town just last week."

"What's wrong with him?" asked Arthur, suspiciously. 

"Nothing!" said Gwen. But there was something about the way she said it, the way she was suddenly busy tidying up the books and not looking Arthur in the eye. "I mean… he's an excellent pastry chef. Really. Far better than you'd usually expect to get out in the country."

"All right then. Tell him to send me his CV and a letter, and as he's a friend of yours, I promise I'll interview him. Okay?"

"Thank you. I'm sure you won't be disappointed. And, Arthur…."

"Yes?"

"I really admire what you're doing, setting up your own business and paying your own way. A lot of people In your position would be content to live off their father's wealth and reputation but you… I think it's great, I really do."

"That's very sweet of you, Gwen. I just hope that one day my father will agree with you."

"I'm sure he will," she said, with a bright smile that couldn't help but give him hope.

*

Merlin sucked thoughtfully on his pen. He flicked the touchpad of his laptop with deft fingers, running through the latest job search results. 

It wasn't a very promising list. It was long enough, with plenty of impressive positions, all of them well paid and well-matched to his qualifications and experience.

But he'd worked at most of these places before. And the ones he hadn't worked at were run by people who had once been colleagues.

Oh dear.

He was about to give up and consider re-training as a long-distance lorry driver when he spotted an e-mail from Gwen.

 _Merlin! Good news! My boss's son is opening a new posh tea shop, he's looking for a pastry chef. I've put in a good word for you! Send your CV and a covering letter to him and he promised he'd give you an interview. Oh, and you're in luck! He_ definitely _likes girls._

_Good luck! Gwenxx_

Merlin felt a little surge of hope - until he read the contact details at the bottom of the e-mail.

He hesitated. That wasn't a name he'd thought he'd ever come across in his line of work.

But then again, why not? What did he have to lose? 

Besides, Gwen would probably kill him if he didn't.

Merlin opened up a fresh e-mail window, attached his CV and began to type.

*

 

A few days later, Merlin found himself standing outside an empty shop at the classier end of the High Street, looking for a bell or a door knocker. There didn't seem to be one, so he rapped firmly on the glass, hoping that this wasn't some kind of trap whereby he'd end up being mugged or something.

A shadow moved around the back of the shop, came closer and finally took on the form of a man, tall and broad and rather handsome, with a flop of blond hair falling in his eyes.

The door rattled open, and the man extended his hand. "Arthur Pendragon. You must be Merlin?"

"That's me." Merlin took Arthur's hand and shook it. He risked a look straight into Arthur's stunning blue eyes, but Arthur just smiled at him; his handshake was firm and very businesslike. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Come in," said Arthur. "Sorry about the mess. The shopfitters are running late. They were supposed to start last Tuesday."

"Ah. That explains the rubble."

Arthur led him to an alcove towards the back of the shop, where there was a rickety-looking table piled with papers, an expensive laptop and a couple of old pizza boxes.

"Been hard at work?" said Merlin.

"You could say that. Please, take a seat."

Merlin sat on a high stool at one side of the table while Arthur sat in the old office chair on the other. Arthur tried a few times to adjust the chair, presumably to get him to the same height as Merlin, but it didn't seem to work. In the end Arthur gave up, smiled brightly at Merlin and said, "So. Tell me a bit about yourself."

"Well… I've just come back from London, where I worked at the Dorchester. I trained at the Lenôtre in Paris. I'm a hard worker. I'm creative and meticulous with great attention to detail. The head chef at the Dorchester said I was a genius but, well. He liked me."

"Right! Well, that's good. But if you don't mind me being frank, why do you want to work somewhere like this when you're used to the Dorchester?"

"I think I've decided that perhaps city life isn't really for me, you know? All the rushing about and the stress, and people not stopping to give you the time of day. I thought it was time to settle down a bit. Fresh air. Long walks. That kind of thing."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Long walks? Really?"

"Oh yes," Merlin said. "I like to keep in shape."

"Okay, well, that's good. I've got a list of questions here, if you wouldn't mind…?"

"Fire away," said Merlin. He was starting to enjoy himself.

Arthur rattled off the usual questions about communication skills, team-work and commitment to an organisation, and Merlin rattled off the usual answers. He thought he did rather well, but eventually, inevitably, Arthur picked up his CV, and thumbed through the pages.

"You have a lot of experience," he noted.

"Oh yes," Merlin said.

"But I have to say, you're not that old. You're what, twenty five?"

"Twenty four," said Merlin.

"And yet you've worked for all these places. Very impressive places, granted. But there are a lot of them."

"Mmm," said Merlin.

Arthur looked him in the eye, all honest and noble and man-to-man. "You have excellent references. You've worked in some of the best kitchens in Europe. But you never stay anywhere very long. Why is that, Merlin?"

"Itchy feet?" Merlin tried, but he could tell Arthur wasn't buying it. "Okay," he said. "The thing is, I'm gay."

"That's certainly not a problem," Arthur said, quickly. "It shouldn't be for any employer."

There was a touch of righteous anger in Arthur's voice that Merlin rather liked. 

"It's not just that. It's… I'm very popular."

"Popular?"

"It can lead to misunderstandings. You don't have to take my word for it. Can I have that a minute?"

He held out his hand and Arthur passed him his CV. He flicked through the pages, picked a pen out of his pocket and circled one of his previous employers. "Ask him. Get it straight from the horse's mouth, and then you'll know I'm not hiding anything."

"I don't really think I-"

"Just ring him," said Merlin. "He'll be in the office now, before the evening rush starts. Please."

Arthur raised an eyebrow; Merlin supposed it wasn't usual to have an interviewee begging to have references consulted in the middle of an interview. But Arthur picked up his phone and took it and Merlin's CV to the back door. He let himself out.

Merlin waited, considering his options.

It would be very exciting to start a kitchen from scratch. He was fairly sure from the questions Arthur had asked (and especially the ones he hadn't) that Arthur really had no idea about the cooking side of things. So Merlin would have free rein on menu design, recipes, themes… The local people were friendly and it would be good to be close to Gwen for a while longer; he had seen so little of her since they left college.

The door banged open, and Arthur returned.

"I see," he said, and sat down.

"Hmm," said Merlin.

Arthur frowned. "He referred to you as 'the Gay of Demonic Charm'."

Merlin shrugged apologetically. "Yes."

"He said he had to let you go because the rest of the kitchen staff were constantly fighting over you."

"That's true."

"He's getting divorced."

"That's not _exactly_ my fault."

"He's getting divorced because his wife found you in bed with him."

Damn. That was a little more detail than Merlin had hoped might be imparted. "It was all a misunderstanding! Honestly!"

Arthur looked just a tad sceptical. "Honestly?"

"She didn't know he was gay. He really should have told her, don't you think?"

"Merlin, I fail to see-"

"Anyway, none of that matters." Merlin leaned forwards, earnest and intent because he needed this job and for some stupid reason it mattered to him what Arthur thought of him. "I wanted you to know because I'm honest. I want you to know who you're hiring. But it'll be different here, I _promise_. It won't happen again."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you don't fancy me."

Arthur leaned back in his chair, looking shocked. "How do you know?"

Merlin kept his voice carefully light and even. "Well, Gwen said you're straight."

Arthur cleared his throat. "That's true. As it happens. Yes."

"And besides, you're not my type."

Now Arthur looked offended. "What d'you mean I'm not your type?"

Merlin gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

"Well, that's fine. Of course. Fine. But what about the rest of the staff? That guy-" Arthur waved his phone, "-said his head waiter has been in therapy for months."

"It'll be fine! Honestly. I have a good feeling about this. You're hiring from scratch, aren't you? We'll just make sure they're all straight and not my type."

"I can't just refuse to employ people in case you seduce them. How about I employ who I like and you learn to keep it in your pants?"

"It's not like that." Merlin scowled, offended. "Mostly they just yearn. And get jealous."

"Oh, I see. Except for other people's husbands."

"That was different! And also none of your business."

"You told me to call him."

"Look. If you're not interested, fair enough. I don't have to stay here and get insulted." Merlin got up, plucked his jacket off the back of the chair and turned to leave.

"Don't be an idiot," Arthur said. "The job's yours if you want it."

Merlin turned back. "Really?"

Arthur shrugged. "It's not as if Paris-trained pastry chefs are queueing up to work at a twelve-table High Street tea shop. And I have very challenging targets."

"You're serious? You'll give me a chance?"

"Yes. But first sign of trouble and you're out on your arse."

"Of course!" 

"It's a deal, then." Arthur extended his hand, and Merlin shook it firmly. "Welcome aboard."

Merlin beamed at him. "You won't regret this. When do I start?"

"Tomorrow. You can help me with the plans for the kitchens. Nine o'clock?"

"Great! I'll see you then."

Merlin slipped his jacket on and was about to leave when he realised that Arthur was regarding him rather intently. "I must say, Merlin, you look very familiar. Have we met before?"

"No! No, not at all. Must be your imagination. Or someone who looks like me. They say everyone has a double, you know."

"Ah, okay." Arthur shrugged and got back to work, flipping open his laptop. "See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," said Merlin.

He stopped at the off-licence on the way home to buy Gwen a rather lovely bottle of wine that he could barely afford, to say thank-you.

Then he went home with the lanky red-headed sales assistant, by way of celebration. 

*

Arthur leaned back in his seat and took a long drink from his pint. It was rich and creamy, properly kept. 

"D'you know, I think that's what I missed most down in London. Decent beer."

"Nice to know you put beer before your friends and family," said Morgana. "Cheers." She raised her glass (vodka martini, of all things) to him and took a delicate sip.

"We could be nice to each other, just for one evening," said Arthur. 

"Don't be ridiculous," Morgana said. "That would be terribly awkward."

Arthur laughed. "I missed you, you know. God help me, but I did."

"I don't suppose there's much else to miss. You never really made many friends here. You were always away at school, or university. I'll be honest, I didn't really expect you to come back. I thought you'd get a smart flat near the City and work for your Daddy's business. I'm disappointed, to be honest. I was hoping I'd get to visit. Use your little London bachelor pad for my own nefarious purposes when you were out of town, that sort of thing."

"What on earth makes you think I'd let you do that?"

"I have my ways."

Arthur poured another mouthful of beer down his throat. He was aware of Morgana watching him closely, eyes narrowed a little.

"So, why _did_ you come back?" she asked.

"It's just something I feel I have to do."

"Run a shop? Come on, Arthur, we both know you could do that with your eyes shut. What's the real reason? Why a cake shop, of all things? And why here?"

The song on the jukebox changed; something about roads and journeys, harmonies and banjos that weren't quite folk music. Arthur knew the band, couldn't remember their name; he was never quite sure if he liked them or not.

He cradled his glass in his hands, watching the froth swilling around on the dark ale. "Loose ends, I suppose."

"Oh God, you're not getting over some torrid romance, are you?"

Arthur laughed. "No. Not that, I promise."

"Well, that's a relief. So what, then?"

"Did Father ever tell you how he met my mother?"

"He never talks about her. You know that."

"I found out a few things, down in London. Uncle Agravaine has some of her things, photos and a diary. He said I look a lot like her."

She squeezed his hand, wordless sympathy. This was the one thing they had in common, something they'd shared since childhood. The lack of a mother; the constant feeling of something missing, something unknown.

"I want to make something real," Arthur said. "Is that so insane?"

Morgana smiled, and squeezed his hand again. "No, Arthur. No. Actually, it's rather sweet. But you didn't hear that from me."

"Heaven forbid."

They exchanged a grin, then Morgana was distracted and started waving at something or someone over Arthur's head.

"Look, there's Gwen!"

Arthur craned his neck around. Sure enough, there was Guinevere, looking oddly modern in a strappy dress and heels, nothing like the outfit she wore at work.

"And Lance!"

"Who's Lance?"

"Her boyfriend. Come on, let's wave them over."

"No! That's not right, she works for Dad. It might be embarrassing."

But Morgana took no notice, springing to her feet and waving her arms about. Gwen spotted them straight away - it would have been hard for her not to, with the fuss Morgana was making. She came over, followed by a tall, rather handsome-looking man with longish hair and a very gentle expression.

Arthur's fears about any awkwardness proved completely unfounded. Gwen and Morgana embraced like sisters and Lance smiled warmly at him and offered to get a round in. 

"You're so stuffy, Arthur," Morgana said, while Gwen and Lance were at the bar. "Gwen's been a great friend to me. It gets lonely out here, while you're off being educated."

"You could have gone to university. Father wanted you to."

Morgana wrinkled her nose. "You don't learn business from books, Arthur."

Arthur was still trying to work out whether that was an insult or not when Gwen and Lance returned with a tray laden with drinks, crisps and packets of pork scratchings.

"I saw your friend Merlin today," Arthur said to Gwen.

"Oh, did you? How did he do? I hope he didn't, um…"

Arthur decided that the unspoken question that hung over the table couldn't possibly have been _'He didn't seduce you, did he?'_ because, really, that was ridiculous. Merlin was perfectly resistable, and Arthur still wasn't convinced about this 'gay of demonic charm' business. So he decided Gwen meant 'He didn't make an idiot of himself, did he?' and replied, "He did fine. He's got great credentials. And yes, I hired him. So thank you."

Gwen smiled and relaxed a bit. "That's great news! I'm pleased it worked out."

"Who's this, Arthur?" said Morgana.

"My new pastry chef. He's great. Trained in France, didn't he, Gwen?"

"That's right," said Gwen. "We were at college together years ago."

"He's very popular," Lancelot murmured.

Arthur pretended he hadn't heard that.

*

After a couple more pints at the Rose and Thicket, Morgana decided she wanted to dance. As there was only one club in town, it was a fairly straightforward matter to make their way there. Arthur rode out a wave of nostalgia as they approached the entrance door; the last time he'd been here it was for Owen's eighteenth birthday and he'd been carded (for the first and last time). He still remembered the triumphant feeling of producing his ID and having the bouncer tell him to 'go in and behave' instead of 'fuck off'.

The place hadn't changed much. Same dark stairwell, still painted black and silver. Same sticky floor and battered tables in the downstairs bar. Same dull thud through the ceiling from the dancefloor above, the migraine pulse of something 90s-raveish.

The fact that the club was half-empty didn't help the atmosphere much, either. 

"Bit quiet," he said, with a sudden pang of longing for London.

"What d'you expect?" said Morgana. "It's Wednesday. Come on, Gwen, let's dance."

Gwen looked to Lance, who shook his head. "I need a few more pints inside me before you'll catch me dancing," he said. "You go ahead. Have a nice time, dear. Be good."

Arthur looked away as Gwen and Lance exchanged a brief kiss. Morgana knew better than to ask him to join them on the dance floor, thank goodness.

Arthur sat on a rather sticky purple leatherette bar stool, suddenly depressed.

"Cheer up, Arthur," said Lance. "I think it's my round."

"Actually it's mine," said Arthur, and got a twenty out of his wallet. "Same again?"

Arthur's eyes drifted to the stairs as he waited for the barman to get to them.

And suddenly, skipping down the stairs with a skinny little redhead in tow, there was Merlin.

He didn't see Arthur. He went straight to the other end of the bar, holding hands with the skinny guy, and within seconds was leaning across the bar, laughing and joking with the barman. It was only when Merlin turned to kiss the boy that Arthur managed to look away.

"Looks like Merlin got lucky," he said to Lance, as casually as he could manage.

"Merlin always gets lucky," said Lance.

"Really? His old boss said something that… well, I thought he was exaggerating."

Lance shook his head. "Legend has it that when Merlin was about eighteen, before he properly came out, he was rejected by some guy he'd really fallen for. Not just rejected but really, properly humiliated. He came here that night to get himself well and truly wrecked, probably meaning to throw himself off a bridge or something. But something amazing happened. It was gay night, and Merlin was all but mobbed by guys who really wanted him. That night he found out that there were a hell of a lot of guys who _wouldn't_ reject him. In fact, they'd fight over him. It's been that way ever since. He can take his pick. Everyone fancies Merlin. It's like he's got some sort of charm…" Lance tailed off, sounding distinctly wistful.

"Demonic," said Arthur. "The gay of demonic charm. Have you ever…?"

Lance gave a little cough, and muttered something Arthur couldn't catch over the noise of the music. Before Arthur had a chance to ask again, the barman, having finally dragged himself away from Merlin, came to serve them.

Merlin went back upstairs, and Arthur tried to put the nagging thought out of his mind, talking to Lance about football, cricket, cars, anything comfortably neutral. After a while the girls came back, flushed and short of breath, demanding more drinks. Eventually Arthur crossed the threshold from 'pleasantly buzzed' to 'quite drunk, really', and allowed himself to be dragged up to the dancefloor.

The music had changed from rave to disco, and at that moment, Kylie. There was a platform in the centre of the room and Merlin was dancing on it with a couple of other guys, including the redhead. Merlin's shirt was off, his jeans sitting low on his hips, showing chest and abs that were skinny, but not so thin as to look bony. Just lean. 

He'd borrowed somebody's sunglasses, perched ridiculously on his nose, and it was as he pushed them back up again that Arthur remembered.

He went cold all over.

_"There's the dance. Tomorrow night. I'd like to ask you to go to it."_

The song finished.

Arthur watched, heart thumping, as Merlin spotted Gwen and ran over to her; kissed her on each cheek, European-style. Arthur watched, awkward, guilty and embarrassed, as Merlin was introduced to Morgana, gave Lance a hug… all of it in noisy silence, because he couldn't hear a word anyone was saying with the music pounding so loud in his ears.

Merlin turned to him and mouthed, "Hi, Arthur!" followed by something Arthur couldn't understand.

Arthur mouthed back, "Hi," and waved, and watched as Merlin dragged Lance, Gwen and Morgana onto the dance floor.

As soon as they started to move, Arthur turned back to the stairs and fled.

He half-walked, half-ran to the bus stop, where he leaned against the shelter, thumping his head back against the plastic. He couldn't get the image of Merlin pushing those bloody glasses up his nose out of his mind. 

Guilt and shame crawled inside Arthur, fighting the fog of alcohol. Almost forgotten for all those years.

He _knew_ he'd met Merlin before.

"Hey, Arthur!"

Arthur was so surprised to see Merlin standing there in front of him that he actually physically jumped. "You were dancing," he said, somewhat foolishly.

"Yeah, and then I saw you leave. Morgana said you didn't like the music but Gwen thought you were upset, so I thought I'd check you're okay."

"That's ludicrous. Of course I'm not upset."

Merlin squinted at him. "Are you sure? You look a bit, um…"

"I'm drunk, that's all," said Arthur. "Long night. Too much to drink. So I'm going home."

"You didn't say goodbye to anyone."

"Yes I did. You probably didn't hear because of the music."

"Now that really is ludicrous."

Arthur sighed. "I'm fine. Now, go back and dance the night away." He made a little shooing motion with one hand.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong." Merlin folded his arms across his now-shirted chest, stubborn as a mule.

"There's nothing wrong."

"You've missed the last bus."

Damn. "So?"

"So are you going to tell me what's wrong or-"

Arthur slumped back against the flimsy plastic wall of the bus-shelter, and closed his eyes for a moment. There was no escaping it. He owed Merlin this much. More than this much.

His eyes opened and he fixed his gaze on the thick yellow paint that marked out the bus-stop in the road in front of him. "Harby Outdoor Persuits," he said. "Just down the road from here. You and I. I'd just finished my first year at Uni, signed up because my girlfriend did, although she didn't even turn up in the end. You were doing your Duke of Edinburgh Award."

"Oh." Merlin stared down at the pavement, kicking lightly at an uneven paving stone with one foot. Arthur continued.

"I was teaching rock climbing, you were working in the kitchens. After dinner I'd be out there kicking a ball around with the sporty kids, while you read stories to the bookworms. Any kid that was upset would come to you because you'd listen and be nice to them and tell them jokes. Last day I was there, you asked me out."

Merlin said nothing.

"Lance told me tonight that when you were younger, some guy rejected you. Made a complete wreck of you. It was me, wasn't it?"

"It's a long time ago," said Merlin, too casually, looking up at the stars. "Can't say I remember."

"I called you a poof."

Merlin bit his lower lip. 

"I threw cake at you."

"So it really was you," Merlin murmured. "I mean, I thought it was, there aren't exactly two Arthur Pendragons running around, but you seemed so nice today."

"I was very young. And very stupid. I was having a hard time, my father was threatening to cut me off if I didn't get better grades and that girl, the one who didn't come with me, it was her birthday and she'd said she'd visit…."

"You don't need to make excuses," said Merlin. "It was years ago. You were an arsehole, is all. People change."

"Shit. Merlin, I'm sorry. To say that of all things… I always felt bad about it. So, it's good, that I got to say sorry, at least."

"Seriously, you don't need to do this. You know what? I should be thanking you. Because of what happened that day I came out, to my mother, to the whole bloody town. I became who I really was inside all along. My life started that day, thanks to you."

Arthur wanted so much to believe him. But there was something in the way Merlin couldn't quite meet his eye… "Oh yeah. Sure. If your life's so great, why are you stuck in a town in the middle of nowhere when you could be working in Paris or Milan or London?"

But Merlin just smiled at him, a little smile that dimpled his cheeks and made his eyes twinkle in the streetlights.

Everything felt very still and quiet for a moment; no traffic, nobody staggering drunkenly out of pubs. Just the faint rustling of the wind through the spindly young lime trees that lined the street.

All of a sudden Merlin was right up close, flinging his arms around Arthur's neck and kissing him. Hard. All teeth and, bloody hell, tongue.

Arthur panicked and flailed, pushing him away. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Kissing you," said Merlin, who hadn't quite given up, still squirming about trying to reach Arthur's mouth.

"No!" Arthur pushed harder.

Merlin jumped back instantly. But he didn't look rejected, or even the slightest bit repentant. There was a _smile_ on his face. "See? That's perfect," he said.

"Is it? I'd say it was a bloody long way from perfect to jump your boss at the bus stop!"

"But you don't want me."

"I thought I'd already made that perfectly clear. Because I'm _straight_ , remember?"

"I just needed to be sure. In the past people have pretended they weren't interested in me that way just to get me on board, and then when it's all going fine they make a move, and take me totally by surprise! But I can be _sure_ now. Whatever happens, I won't get in trouble. This could work really well!"

"God." Arthur decided the tingling in his lips was definitely to do with the alcohol and not Merlin's frenzied attempts at kissing. Obviously. "You could have just asked. You know. With actual _words_."

"Maybe," said Merlin, still with that cheeky grin on his face. "But this way I can be certain you're not going to be an arsehole about it any more, either. Come on. Want to share a cab?"

"You don't even live near me, you idiot. Besides, I could do with a walk. Clear my head."

Merlin shrugged. "Please yourself."

"Go back to your little ginger friend. And do me a favour, tell Morgana I've gone?"

"Sure thing, boss," said Merlin, ridiculously chirpily.

Arthur watched him skip back into the club, and then set out on the long, damp walk back to his flat, trying very hard not to think of anything much at all.

*

Gaius's office was in an old building from the 1960s, all concrete and thin wooden doors. Apart from two chairs and a small table between them, the room was in the sort of chaos that came with the passage of a great deal of time: books and papers layered on every surface, year by year by year, to form teetering piles and an atmosphere thick with dust and the promise of knowledge. 

Merlin cleared his throat. 

Gaius looked up from his desk at the back of the room with a delighted smile. "Merlin! I didn't know you were back in the country!"

"I came back a couple of months ago to visit Gwen, but I sort of ended up staying."

Gaius crossed the room to give Merlin's hand a warm shake, and indicated for him to take a seat. They settled opposite each other, the familiar sense of companionship spreading between them. "It's been a while," Gaius said.

"Nearly a year. How's the Professorship thing working out for you?"

"It's much the same as being an ordinary tutor, except they pay me a little bit more, I don't get so many undergraduates to deal with and my key fits a few extra rooms I didn't even know existed."

"Any good ones?"

"The bathroom over at St Hughs' is very nice. Art deco. Posh soap."

Merlin laughed. 

"What about you, my boy?" Gaius continued. "What brings you to see me?"

"Can't I just visit?"

"Yes. Is that what you're doing?"

"Well, no, I suppose not. But I will. I should do, more often."

"I know how busy you young people get. Spit it out, then, Merlin. What's the matter?"

Merlin tried to ignore the sudden pang of guilt - he cared a good deal for Gaius and his old mentor deserved better than the occasional visit - and said, "Well, it's to do with Arthur Pendragon."

"Arthur Pendragon? After all this time?"

"I'm working for him."

"Really? I didn't know he'd gone into hotels."

"He hasn't. He's starting up a tea room on the high street."

Gaius looked suitably astonished, eyebrows retreating rapidly towards his hairline. 

"It's going to be quite interesting," said Merlin. "It's a good job."

"Did he recognise you?"

"Eventually. We've sort of worked past that. But there are other problems."

"Merlin, please don't tell me you've revealed your secret to him?"

"The whole 'demonic charm' thing? I had to. Fortunately he doesn't really understand. He just thinks it means I'm very attractive to other men."

"He doesn't know why?"

"No. I've been really careful. I haven't used my powers at all, not on purpose. Not so much as a glamour."

"Excellent! This could be good for you, Merlin." Gaius smiled kindly. "Just be careful of the Pendragon family. They're very powerful and Uther is not the most sympathetic of people. He's had his own brush with magic and it ended badly."

"Really?"

"Yes. It was a long time ago, but it nearly cost him his business. There was a big scandal about it, and he's campaigned vociferously against magic ever since. He screens his own employees carefully and if he finds so much as a sniff of power, they're out on their ear. If you're working for Arthur, you'd be wise to keep your magic to yourself."

"I'll try. It's not easy, though. It's amazing how few men are truly straight, when it gets down to it. They throw themselves at me."

"You inherited incubus powers from your father, Merlin. We've discussed this many times; you are the one with the power and it's up to you to control your actions."

"I know, I know. But it's not that easy, Gaius."

Gaius made a non-committal sort of a noise and got up. He poured thick brown liquid from the ancient coffee-maker in the corner of the room, and put a mug full down in front of Merlin. 

It was bitter and far too strong, but Merlin sipped at it politely. Gaius took a gulp of his and let out a long, satisfied sigh. "I never understand why they say coffee's so bad for you. When you get to my age, a kick like that can make the difference between a day in bed and a day where you actually have the wherewithal to do something."

Merlin smiled, and pulled a tin out of his backpack. "Strawberry shortbread," he said, handing it to Gaius, and took a moment's pleasure at the delight on his old friend's face. 

"Arthur has shown no interest in you at all?" Gaius said a couple of minutes later, brushing shortbread crumbs from his shirt.

"None whatsoever. I think he _is_ actually completely heterosexual. Or possibly just insufferable."

"Interesting," said Gaius.

"Why?"

"Did Arthur's father set him up in this business?"

"No, not at all. In fact, Gwen said he really disapproved. It was all Arthur's idea, and he's doing it by himself."

"That's very brave of him."

"I suppose." Merlin hadn't thought of it that way before. "He's taking it very seriously."

"Well, it seems like you've fallen on your feet, my boy," said Gaius. "More shortbread?"

"Don't mind if I do," said Merlin.

*


	3. Chapter 3

It was late, the shop reeked of paint and wood glue, and Arthur still had some kind of gunk in his hair from when he'd had to go and crawl around in the basement to fix the leak in one of the water pipes. He'd have to get up at dawn the next day to let the emergency plumber in, because it turned out that having found the leak he had no idea what to do about it. Apparently wrapping a bit of old rag around the join in the pipe didn't help.

Arthur was tired and cranky, and Merlin was being difficult.

He pushed another form over the table to Merlin and prodded at it with his pen.

"What about this one, then? Anything wrong with her?"

"NVQ 1 in Hospitality? Are you kidding me? Do you know what that even means?"

Despair settled in Arthur's heart. "No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"It means they can put a glass of wine on a table without spilling it. If you're lucky."

"Well, she says she's keen to learn."

"That's just as well, seeing as she spelt learn without an 'A'."

"So?" said Arthur, through gritted teeth. "Just don't let her ice the letters on the damn birthday cakes!"

"There's no need to be patronising."

"I am _not_ being patronising." 

"You so fucking are," said Merlin.

Arthur sighed, heavily. "Maybe she's just dyslexic? Morgana's dyslexic, it never bloody stopped her."

"Fair enough. But seriously, Arthur, it's the cooking skills. I won't have time to teach anyone from scratch. I don't expect them to have worked in a kitchen professionally before but I need _something_."

"Is there anyone at all, then? Surely in that huge pile there must be someone."

"There's two, maybe, possibly. But there's a slight problem."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Merlin handed him a couple of application forms, and Arthur flicked through. "Okay, these look promising. Qualifications, a bit of experience… what's the matter with them?"

"They're both men."

"You're not seriously telling me you can't work with any men, ever? I'm pretty sure that's against equality legislation, quite apart from anything else."

"But-"

"Look, it's perfectly simple, Merlin." Arthur leaned across the table, close enough to be intimidating, and spoke slowly and clearly. "If you can't get over this little problem of yours, I will personally take one of your very, very sharp chef's knives and cut off your bollocks. That will solve everybody's problem in one nice neat move. Okay?"

"Nah, you wouldn't," said Merlin cheerfully, but he did look just the tiniest bit worried.

Arthur counted that as a win.

*

Percival lasted two days.

They didn't get off to a particularly good start, what with Arthur mistaking him for the plumber and everything. Merlin managed to smooth that over by complimenting Percival on his stature and his muscles, and asking him where he worked out, pointing out that it was really quite flattering that Arthur assumed he must have a manual trade with a physique like that.

Within half an hour Percival had offered to show Merlin exactly how pumped his glutes were, and well, it all went downhill from there, because Arthur overheard, and dragged Merlin off by the ear to yell at him.

By the time he'd got back, Percival had gone, leaving a note and his phone number.

Merlin saw quite a bit of Percival after that. But not in a professional context. As he'd said in his note, Percival really didn't like to mix business with pleasure.

Tristan lasted a whole week before he handed in his apron, telling Merlin tearfully that his wife had threatened to throw him out if he didn't stop pining after his co-worker. 

With things getting desperate, Gwen sugested that they give her brother Elyan a try. By the time he came along, the place was starting to look more like a tea shop and less like a pile of exploded concrete. The plumbing was fixed, the wiring was done and the kitchen, while still lacking its full complement of fixtures and fittings, at least had a cooker, some hygenic surfaces and a supply of water and power. Merlin started work on some recipes, a messy process involving meticulous record keeping and creative flair. Elyan was good at both, just like his sister.

Unfortunately he was also every bit as sweet as Gwen, and twenty times as reckless. Merlin tried to resist him, really he did. But eventually they bumped into each other in the pub, and got drunk. Next morning Merlin was creeping from Elyan's flat with a stupid grin on his face and a conviction that of course they could keep this secret and no-one need ever find out.

Elyan's hard cock and sweet temperament were just too tempting not to at least try. 

It lasted three days before Gwen found out. And as Gwen, when riled, was ten times more terrifying as Arthur, Elyan turned in his notice. At least Merlin managed to get him a job at the hotel in the next town, which calmed Gwen down a bit.

So it was that the day of the opening arrived with the grand total of staff at the Albion Tea Rooms remaining stubbornly and inadequately at two.

Arthur hired in some table staff for the night. They were expensive and efficient. 

And they were _all_ girls.

*

"That went well," said Merlin.

Arthur sprawled in a chair, tie loosened, top button undone. "I've never worked so hard in my life."

"Welcome to my world."

"Seriously? What's so tough about swanning about in a kitchen piping cream over things?"

"Seeing as we're both tired and it's been a very stressful evening, I'm going to ignore that. Would you like some tea?"

"I'd rather have something stronger. Come on, come with me."

Arthur hauled himself to his feet and led the way to what had once been the alcove at the back of the shop where he'd first interviewed Merlin. Now it was a proper office with walls and doors and windows, and although the desk was no tidier, there were bookcases and a filing cabinet into which things could, theoretically, go. There was also a large leather sofa against one wall. Merlin collapsed gratefully into it, and Arthur pulled a bottle of malt and a couple of glasses from his bookcase.

"I hope you're not going to make a habit of that," Merlin said. "You'll be drinking all our profits."

"Do you want some or not?"

"Of course I do."

"Shut up, then. And don't worry, it's not a permanent feature. It was a present from my father. An Opening Night Present."

"Ah. Well, you've earned it. Everything went so well tonight. It was amazing."

Arthur poured; they clinked; Merlin let the warm fire slip down his throat. 

"I should warn you, Arthur, I'm a total lightweight. A few of these and I'll be anybody's."

"You're anybody's to start with." Arthur topped up their glasses, and set the bottle on the floor. He flopped down on the sofa at Merlin's side.

"Tell me, Arthur," said Merlin. "Why are you doing all this? Surely your Dad would pay to set you up in pretty much any business you wanted. Why go the hard way?"

Arthur weighed his glass in his palm, watching the whisky swirl around. "I suppose you could say I have something to prove," he said, softly.

"Who to? Your father?"

"He fought hard to get Camelot Enterprises to where it is today." Arthur paused, and took a gulp of whisky. "And I always got the feeling I was a bit of a disappointment to him. A therapist once told me I have 'residual guilt'."

"Therapy, eh?" Merlin sought eye contact, gave Arthur a gentle smile, and when Arthur started to stiffen, defensive, Merlin added, "Me too. Went a bit wild when I was fifteen, realising I was gay but not willing to admit it and all that. My mother sent me to a friend of hers, a psychologist. He said I lacked a father figure but, well. My Dad left before I was born, not much I could do about that."

"I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose a parent. My mother died in childbirth. I never knew her."

"That's tough. I still see the psych sometimes. He's a batty old professor up at Oxford. Well, batty but kind of wise, you know? It can be good, having someone to talk to. "

Arthur gave a terse nod. "I know. I have an uncle down in London, he's been great. Dad's been all he can be, but it was hard, in the old days. He wasn't around a lot. I ran away once, when I was about five. Gave my nanny the slip and got lost in Hyde Park. They didn't find me until the next day. My Dad was furious. Then Morgana came to live with us. Things got better after that in some ways. She behaved far worse than me, put my exploits into a different light, I think. I don't know, he seemed to thaw out a bit anyway. Then he sent me away to school."

Merlin put his hand on Arthur's arm and squeezed gently.

"It's okay," Arthur said. "School was good, actually. I'm fine, except…"

"Except?"

"My father's still… who he is. He expects all these great things of me. I want to be a son he can be proud of. That my mother would have been proud of." Arthur looked around his little office. "So I suppose that's what this is about. This is me, proving myself."

Merlin clinked Arthur's glass with his own again. "It's going to be a great success. I know it."

Arthur grinned back. "Thanks, Merlin. Come on. Let's get out of here."

"Out?"

"This warrants a proper celebration. The kind where I get drunk and you get laid. Let's go clubbing."

"We could do both right here," said Merlin, with his very best winsome smile and a flutter of his eyelashes.

"Clubbing," said Arthur, firmly.

But his eyes crinkled around the edges, just a bit.

*

It was Friday night and the club was heaving. After a few drinks Merlin even managed to persuade Arthur to dance. But Arthur was very stiff about it: no touching, no eye contact, and while he had a good sense of rhythm and knew how to move, Arthur's was undeniably the dance of a straight Englishman on the pull. After a few awkward minutes, Merlin found a group of pretty girls he'd met a few weeks ago on a student night, left Arthur in their care and melted away to the other side of the dance floor.

There Merlin slipped his shirt over his shoulders, closed his eyes and let his hips find the beat. He was dimly aware of a crowd forming, of people chanting his name. He wondered if Arthur was watching, but of course, he wouldn't be. Not Arthur.

Which was a very good thing, Merlin reminded himself. because he really needed to keep this job. There were plenty of other men to choose from.

So Merlin kept dancing.

*

The toilet in the club was brightly lit, the shiny white tile stark and harsh after the red and black and sparkle of the dance floor. Merlin stood with his back to the wall and watched as Gilli sank to his knees in front of him. Merlin touched Gilli's hair, shorn to soft and short; he cradled the back of Gilli's head as he unzipped Merlin's low-slung jeans. 

Gilli's mouth was soft and wet and very, very willing.

He sucked and licked, no tease to it, just right in there, Merlin's cock hard, his balls aching. He was just getting into it when Gilli stopped.

"Sorry," he said, looking up at Merlin with big blue eyes and an earnest expression. "I can't wait. Got to do myself too."

Merlin watched as Gilli got his own cock out and gave it a squeeze. Gilli groaned; his pointy little tongue flashed out to lick his lips. 

His mouth was small; Merlin couldn't imagine how his cock fit in there, it seemed impossible. But Gilli gave his own cock a few tight strokes and then set about showing Merlin exactly how much he could take. A few long, wet sucks and then Gilli's spare hand was gripping Merlin's hip, guiding him, making him fuck Gilli's mouth. 

Merlin stared, lust-stupid, as his cock disappeared into all that heat, over that rough, wriggling tongue, flirting with dangerous but well-shielded teeth. It felt like heaven; all the excitement and tension of the day pooled in Merlin's balls and pushed at him; ache, ache, ache.

"Gilli," he said, rubbing his thumb over Gilli's ear, warning him.

Gilli shook his head, delivering a whole new world of pleasure to Merlin's cock, and sucked him down, hard. Merlin cried out, flung his head back and came down Gilli's throat in long, hard pulses that left his fingers trembling against the downy hair at the nape of Gilie's neck.

When he'd recovered enough to focus he saw a pool of semen by his feet; Gilli rested his head on Merlin's hip, panting for breath.

"You okay?" said Merlin, because Gilli was young - not too young, but young - and Merlin remembered how it felt when your lust faded and all the other stuff crowded in. Gilli nodded his head, but Merlin pulled him up and kissed him to be sure, relieved when Gilli wound his arms around Merlin's neck, relaxed and warm.

They cleaned up and Gilli wrote his number like a bracelet around Merlin's wrist. 

"They tell me you don't belong to anyone," Gilli said. "That you have some kind of sex magic, that you have to be shared. Is that true?"

"I don't know about that," said Merlin. "Did you have a good time?"

Gilli nodded, his smile dimpling his cheeks. 

"Me too," said Merlin, and gave him a single, chaste kiss to his forehead.

*

It was beyond late, and Merlin was tired. Arthur had long since disappeared, and soon it would be time for Merlin to go to work and start baking. It would be nice to get at least a couple of hours sleep before then. So he said his goodbyes to anyone who knew him and paused at the vending machine downstairs to get a can of red bull for the morning.

"Saw you dancing up there. You're good."

Merlin turned to see a man leering at him. He was tall and sweaty, swaying slightly with drink. There was a scar across one eye, jagged and nasty, the kind people get from bottle fights.

"Thanks, mate," Merlin said. "I'm calling it a night now."

"You can come home with me." It wasn't an invitation.

Merlin sighed. "You don't want to do this. Take it from me, you really don't."

Another voice, Irish, interjected in calm, firm tones. "Hey, man. D'you need any help?"

Merlin looked around; behind him stood a man with dark hair down to his shoulders, which were very broad, and rather gorgeous eyes. He winked at Merlin, all self-assured mischief.

"I've got it, thanks," said Merlin, and that was when the sweaty guy threw his punch. 

Merlin ducked; Mr Gorgeous moved in a blur and suddenly Mr Sweaty was on the floor with a boot at his throat, making apologetic noises.

"Thanks," said Merlin, feeling ridiculously pleased to be rescued.

"My pleasure," said Mr Gorgeous, and reached out his hand. "Gwaine."

"Merlin," said Merlin. "Want to come back to mine?"

Gwaine looked a little startled. "Sorry, mate, I'm not actually-"

"Gay? Oh, shit, no, I didn't mean it like that! Sorry. I meant, you know. So I can say thank you. Not with my cock or anything! Just, you know. A drink, or something."

"I'm glad we've got that straight," said Gwaine. A couple of bouncers arrived; Gwaine handed over Mr Sweaty to them. "As it happens, there isn't anywhere I have to be."

"Great!" said Merlin, still beaming. "Let's call a cab."

*

"So," said Gwaine, tossing his gorgeous hair. "My life story. Dad died when I was five, mother turned to drink, who can blame her. Left home at twelve, on the streets 'til fifteen, boxing until I was eighteen and realised the game was a bit too crooked even for me. Stupid jobs since then, bit of security, delivery boy. Living with girlfriends. Until they've had enough and throw me out."

"I can't imagine ever wanting to throw you out," said Merlin, without thinking. 

"Well, you don't know me," said Gwaine.

He was sitting at the foot end of Merlin's bed, Merlin at the pillow end; Merlin cross-legged while Gwaine was leaning back against the footboard, legs sprawled out taking up most of the room. It felt very comfortable, somehow, as if he'd known Gwaine for years. It was a shame he was so definitely straight.

"I never knew my Dad, either," said Merlin.

"Yeah?" The sympathy was plain in Gwaine's eyes. "You turned out all right, though."

"Mum was great. I was lucky. D'you want another drink?"

"No, thanks. I'm starving hungry, though. Have you got anything to eat?"

"Sure. Come through to the kitchen."

Merlin's flat was small and mostly open-plan, but the kitchen was a decent size and very well-equipped - he always insisted on that, whenever he chose somewhere to live. It was a matter of professional pride.

"I've only really got cake," Merlin said, apologetically. "It's been full-on at work lately so I've been obsessing a bit."

"Cake?" said Gwaine, with a little catch to his voice and an unmistakable longing in his eyes.

"Yeah. Here." Merlin pulled a box of cupcakes and strawberry custard slices from the fridge, and set it down in front of Gwaine. "Knock yourself out."

"You shouldn't say that to a boxer," Gwaine said, but his eyes were fixed firmly on the cakes.

"Sorry. Help yourself, then. I'm gonna need a gallon of coffee, I have to be at work in an hour." Merlin left Gwaine to it while he went to put the kettle on. 

Then there were noises.

Merlin knew those noises. Groany noises. Moany noises. Those were _orgasmic_ noises.

He turned around to see Gwaine shoving the last of a cupcake into his mouth in a state of what could only be described as bliss. He had chocolate icing and sprinkles caught in his stubble and, more endearingly, on the tip of his nose.

"You made this?" he mumbled around his mouthful of sponge cake.

"Yes," said Merlin. "Do you like it?"

"Man," said Gwaine, not even pausing to wipe his face before he started to devour a vanilla slice. "It's the best I ever tasted. I'm not kidding."

Merlin ripped off a few sheets of kitchen paper and handed them to Gwaine. "Here. You have a little bit on your… well, everywhere, really."

Gwaine grinned, muckily, and cleaned himself up. "Sorry. It's just I'm really hungry and this is absolutely gorgeous. You're amazing."

Merlin smiled happily. "Thank you."

"I'd kill to be able to make cake like this. It's a proper art, you know? I bet you're never unemployed, eh?"

"Not for long. Which is saying something, I suppose."

"Eh?"

"Nothing. You're right. It's a pretty useful skill to have."

"You must have trained for years to get this good."

"Yep. Catering college, apprenticeship, Paris."

"Paris?"

"I got spotted by a top chef who was looking for an advanced apprentice to specialise as a pastry chef. I was lucky."

"This isn't lucky," said Gwaine, regarding a mini-eclair lovingly. "This is heaven. Heaven doesn't happen by accident."

"I suppose not." Merlin watched Gwaine devour the eclair in one mouthful, and had an idea. A _right_ idea, like a lightbulb coming on. "Are you serious?" he said.

"About what?"

"About wanting to learn how to make cakes."

"Sure. I'd kill to be able to do this."

"Well, you won't have to kill anyone. But I can give you a chance, if you're willing to work at it."

"To do what?"

"We're looking for someone to help out where I work. It's a new tea shop on the high street, just opened yesterday. It's just me and the owner at the moment, and that's not much labour to serve the number of tables he's hoping to fill."

"I'm not much good at waiting tables," said Gwaine.

"I'm not talking about waiting tables. I'm talking about the kitchen. You'd have to start at the very beginning, but if you want, I'll teach you to be a pastry chef. There'll be a lot of washing up and peeling things and weighing stuff. And it's an apprenticeship, so the pay's shit. But I'll train you, and you get all the cake you can eat. What d'you say?"

"Are you serious?"

"Totally."

Gwaine made a squealing noise and pulled Merlin into a tight bear hug, jumping them both up and down until Merlin begged for mercy.

"Great!" said Merlin, once Gwaine had let him go and he'd got his breath back. "You'll need some coffee, then."

"Uh?"

"Because our shift starts in half an hour," said Merlin. "You can have the shower first, if you want."

*

 

One Wednesday, a couple of weeks after the opening, Arthur woke abruptly to find Merlin shaking him by the shoulder. He'd fallen asleep in his office, cash drawer cradled in one arm and his apron and order book in the other. 

Merlin had been proved right: the opening night had been a success. They got good coverage in the local press and Arthur followed it up with a subtle but extremely effective marketing campaign. Cake, Arthur discovered, practically sold itself, especially when it was as good as Merlin's. Within a week of the opening, Albion Tea Rooms was bustling with customers, and they were doing a good take-home trade, too. 

But they were still short-staffed. Arthur was so busy running the tables that he had little time left to run the business. He rushed around in the shop from morning til night, and spent his last couple of waking hours each day trying to do some basic book-keeping and finding new critics to invite. Thus it was that he'd developed a tendency to catch sleep where he could.

On this occasion, before he'd really achieved consciousness, Arthur found himself installed on his sofa with a mug of coffee, while Merlin perched on his desk and glared sternly at him.

"You can't go on like this, Arthur. You need help."

"What?" said Arthur, blearily.

"You can't manage the place and wait on all those tables. It's too much."

"So what, exactly, do you suggest, Merlin? Know any eunuchs I can hire?"

"Arthur," said Merlin, reproachfully. "I'm just trying to help."

Arthur sighed and stared into the murky depths of his very hot, very black coffee. "It's not just that, Merlin. It's the money. Anyone good enough wants way more than I can afford. The refit cost more than I expected."

"I'm sure Gwen would help out," said Merlin.

"Gwen already has a job. She works for my father, remember?"

"She said she's owed a lot of leave."

"And if she goes to my father to ask to take it, he will know exactly why and what she's planning to do, and he'll decide I'm in trouble and I'll never hear the end of it."

"You should give Gwen more credit. She's very discreet, you know."

"It's not Gwen I'm worried about. It's Morgana. She's just itching to see me fail, and she'll know soon enough if Gwen's working here."

"You're making no sense, Arthur. Things are going brilliantly, you're not failing at all! You need extra staff, that's all. You can trust Gwen. If you can't rely on your friends, who can you rely on? Besides, it would only be temporary, until you find someone else."

"You don't understand. It's my responsibility."

Merlin's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, a look that Arthur was coming to associate with defeat. "So you're going to let Morgana win, are you, Arthur?"

"Have you even been listening, Merlin?"

"Because you won't hire Gwen."

"No, I won't hire Gwen because then Morgana will know that I can't find my own staff."

"Morgana's very clever, I must say, to have such a hold over you."

"What?"

"Well, it seems to me that the only real reason you won't let Gwen help is because of Morgana. And because you won't take Gwen on, you will have a nervous breakdown or something and fail. Very shrewd move on Morgana's part, putting you in that position, eh?"

Arthur was fairly sure there was a reason why Merlin was wrong, but he couldn't exactly, at that moment, work out what it was. So instead he said, "If you must know, I asked Gwen ages ago, and she turned me down."

"Turned you down, or the job?"

"Merlin! Do you ever think of anything else?"

Merlin shrugged. "Cake. Magic."

"What?" Arthur shook his head: perhaps Merlin was right about him being exhausted. He'd started hearing things.

"Nothing. Come on, Arthur. Why don't you let me talk to Gwen? It's not as if you're trying to poach her from your father. It's only temporary."

Arthur buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his hairline and trying to work out whether it was receding or not. "I give up."

"Does that mean I can ask her?"

"Yes, Merlin, do whatever you like. But I don't want my father in any way inconvenienced."

"I thought he was in the States, anyway."

"No, that's not til Wednesday."

"Arthur," said Merlin, with a gentle hand on Arthur's shoulder. "It _is_ Wednesday. You see why we're all worried?"

" _Next_ Wednesday, Merlin. I've got to get through tea with him on Sunday. Every week he insists on seeing the books just so he can tut at me."

There was a banging noise from the shop, followed by the sweet jingle of the shop bell. 

"That'll be Gwaine. Why don't you go home and get a shower? We can manage."

"But the morning rush-"

"The morning rush won't want to buy croissants from someone who looks like he spent the night guzzling cider in a shop doorway. Come on."

Thoroughly defeated - but oddly feeling somewhat better nonetheless - Arthur submitted to Merlin's guidance and followed him out into the shop, where Gwaine was shrugging out of his leather jacket.

"Morning, Boss," he said, without an ounce of respect whatsoever. "Merlin."

Merlin smiled warmly and said, "Hello." Arthur nodded.

"Weird thing," Gwaine said. "I think you've got a stalker."

"Not again," Merlin groaned. 

"No, not you. Arthur."

That jolted Arthur fully alert. "Me?"

"There's been the same car outside for four days now. It just sits there most of the day. Windows are blacked out."

"No," said Arthur. "I'd have noticed."

"Well, it's not as if you go out much," said Gwaine. "It's a black Porsche, not the kind of thing you usually see on the High Street."

"I'm sure it's a coincidence," said Merlin, although he looked a bit worried.

"Is it out there now?" said Arthur, soon on his way to see for himself

"Yes. You might want to be a bit more careful, man-" 

Arthur was already out of the door.

He couldn't see the car at first, just stood on the pavement squinting down the road, Gwaine tumbling out of the shop behind him. Then he saw it. A black Carrera with shaded windows, like the ones his father used when he was feeling especially paranoid.

Something about this didn't feel right, but before Arthur could change his mind, Gwaine was knocking on the window.

It slid down, very slowly, and a familiar face was revealed, bit by bit.

Gwaine was bristling beside him, spoiling for a fight. Arthur put a steadying hand on his arm. 

A voice came from the car. "Hello?" 

"Be careful, Arthur," said Gwaine. "You don't know what they want."

"Oh, I don't think I'm in any danger," Arthur said, and rapped his knuckles sharply on the roof of the car. "Am I, Leon?"

The car door opened and Leon sheepishly got out. He drew himself to his full height - he was a couple of inches taller than Gwaine - and looked at Arthur over the top of his sunglasses. "I didn't want to bother you," he said.

"Er, who is this, Arthur?" said Merlin.

"I can hit him if you want," added Gwaine.

"Nobody's hitting anyone," said Arthur. "This is Leon. I've known him all my life. Every now and then my father takes it into his head to send him after me to make sure I don't get into any trouble, isn't that right, Leon?"

Leon looked as if he were about to object, but he didn't seem to have the heart for it. "Yes, Arthur," he said. 

"You'd better come inside," Arthur said. "Go and put the kettle on, Gwaine."

*

 

They sat around one of the empty tables, drinking tea and watching Gwaine devour a whole plate of macaroons. Merlin had pronounced them substandard in some way, but it didn't seem to bother Gwaine at all. If he didn't know better, Arthur might have thought Merlin was surreptitiously feeding his apprentice up a bit.

"Please, Arthur, don't tell your father you found out I was keeping an eye on you," Leon said. "He'll kill me."

"He'd better get in the queue," said Arthur. "What on earth does he think I'm getting up to? Believe me, all there is in my life right now is tea and cake. There's no room for any trouble."

"He seems to be having difficulty believing that you're really doing this for the right reasons. His latest theory is that you've run up gambling debts and are too afraid to admit it to him."

"That's ludicrous. I've never placed a bet in my life."

"Well, um." Leon pushed his sunglasses up his nose. They were quite small and round, changing colour and shade in reaction to the light and, together with his long hair and scraggly beard, made him look more like a peace campaigner than a security manager. 

"What're you wearing those for indoors?" Gwaine said, as devoid of manners as ever. 

"My eyes are over-sensitive to light," Leon said. "I was in an accident."

"He nearly died," said Arthur. "Saving my sorry arse when we were out horse riding."

"I hit my head on something. It left my eyes very weak."

"Great," said Gwaine. "A half-blind bodyguard."

"Gwaine!" said Merlin, sharply. 

"Hey, I meant nothing by it," said Gwaine. "I was one round away from being a deaf boxer. It's not an easy profession, violence."

"No," said Leon. "That's very true, my friend."

"I have an idea," Merlin said, eyes sparkling. "One that doesn't involve any violence at all!"

"Why am I not filled with optimism?" said Arthur, bracing himself for another of Merlin's ludicrous schemes.

"How about if Leon stays here and keeps an eye on you, just like your father wants him to?"

"Are you an idiot, Merlin? I'm twenty-five years old. I do not need a bodyguard."

"We know that. But seeing as Uther's sent him here, why not make good use of him?"

"Doing what, exactly? said Arthur.

"All sorts of things! Waiting tables, answering the phone, taking reservations. You know you need the help. It's perfect!"

"Except for one thing," said Leon. "I've never waited a table in my life."

"We're all here to learn," said Gwaine.

"Actually we're here to make money," said Arthur.

"Gwen will be here for a couple of weeks," said Merlin. "She can show Leon what to do."

Arthur overlooked the technicality that Merlin hadn't actually asked Gwen, because he had to admit that very few people seemed able to say no to him. And it was possible, perhaps, that having Leon around might not be so bad. Leon had known Arthur long enough to understand how his family worked, and he was (incompetent spying for Uther aside) a trustworthy sort. He wouldn't go ratting to Morgana, either, which was a bonus.

"All right," said Arthur. "We'll give it a few days, see how it goes. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go and have a shower, and Merlin will go and ask Gwen if she'll agree to take a working holiday with us while my father's in America."

"Of course she will," said Merlin, grinning happily. Arthur couldn't help smiling back at him: Merlin was so ridiculously excited.

It was pleasantly infectious.

*

 

That afternoon Merlin set about showing Leon the ropes. From what Leon had told him as Merlin gave him the guided tour of the shop, it seemed that Leon made a habit of saving Arthur from everything from testosterone-fuelled extreme sports to unsuitable women. Although Leon was the first to admit he wasn't as much use with the women.

"I'm very shy," he said. "And there isn't much time for that sort of thing. Uther keeps me very busy."

"Did he really hire you as Arthur's bodyguard when you were both kids?"

"Oh yes. Well, not as a bodyguard at first, I was too young, of course. But Uther knew my father, and he came to an arrangement. We went to the same school; we were room-mates right through from prep school to university. Mr Pendragon paid my fees and in return I kept an eye on Arthur and tell him if there were any problems."

"That seems a bit extreme. Why was he so worried?"

Leon shrugged. "Uther's very rich and he used to worry about kidnapping and things. He's always been a bit over-protective. But Arthur can handle himself. Uther doesn't give him enough credit. They had a big row about it when Arthur moved down to London to do his Masters. Arthur put his foot down and I wouldn't really have felt comfortable following him, so I stayed here and Uther gave me a job overseeing his personal security team."

"Seems a bit much, though. Arthur's a grown man."

"I know. I thought Arthur took it really well. Is he all right, do you think?"

"Arthur? Yeah, he's doing fine."

"He looks a bit pale, don't you think? Has he been sleeping badly? He used to get dreadfully bad dreams sometimes."

"I don't know. He's been working very hard here to make a success of the shop, I think that's why he's tired."

"I do hope so," said Leon. "He's a very hard person to help, sometimes."

"Tell me about it," said Merlin with a rueful grin.

"Truth be told, I missed him, rather. Life's never dull around Arthur."

"Well, I'm glad you're here, just in case," said Merlin, and patted Leon's hand. "Besides, we really do need the help. Let's start with some napkin folding, shall we?"

Leon looked blankly at him. His hands were trembling a bit.

"Just follow my lead," said Merlin, shaking out a fresh white napkin. "You'll soon get the hang of it."

*


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin ticked the final box on his inventory list - chocolate, for Gwaine to grate into curls for the Black Forest cheesecake the following morning - and set down his clipboard with a contented sigh. He looked around his clean, tidy kitchen, well stocked and immaculate, and nodded with satisfaction. "You know, Arthur, we really are doing very well."

"Oh, and you'd know that, would you?"

Arthur was sitting at the table nearest the kitchens, glaring at his laptop. He'd given up his office to Gwaine and Leon, who were watching a football match on the TV in there. Merlin was a bit surprised that Arthur showed no interest in watching it with them; he liked football as much as the next man, although he'd mostly played rugby at university. Besides, he was always complaining about how he never got any work done sitting in the shop anyway, because Merlin always prattled on at him. But nonetheless, whenever there was a game on, he'd hand his comfy leather sofa over to Gwaine and Leon and come and bother Merlin.

"We're getting through a lot of cake," Merlin said, joining Arthur in the shop.

"That's true. But how much do we sell, rather than give to Gwaine for free?"

"If you want to give Gwaine more cash in his pay-packet, go ahead. But he'd only buy cake with it anyway, so we're just saving a lot of hassle with the tax man."

"You really have no idea how this business thing works, do you Merlin?"

"No, and you have no idea how to cook! That's why we're made for each other," said Merlin with a cheeky grin.

"Unfortunately, I can't afford to pay Gwaine more. He and Leon take a big chunk out of our profits, even before Leon starts his daily china-breaking spree."

"You could get him to pay you back for that."

"Really? How would I do that when he's barely earning anything to start with?"

"Exactly! Just like Gwaine. See, now you're getting it!"

Arthur snorted in that dismissive, annoying way he had.

"Forgive me if I'm being naive," said Merlin, slyly. "But aren't you supposed to factor in labour costs?"

"Shut up, Merlin."

"Yes, Arthur," said Merlin.

He turned off the lights in the kitchen, collected his jacket and rucksack, and came to sit at Arthur's side.

"Actually," Arthur said, "I was thinking we could improve our profits if we offer more by way of a night-time menu. Bigger profit-margin."

"Night time? You mean open in the evening?"

"Yes. Cafe by day, something unusual and exclusive by night. We could still sell cake, but in a more sophisticated sort of way. We could apply for a music licence, jazz maybe…"

"I can see one small flaw in that cunning plan."

"Really, Merlin? What might that be?"

"We're already working our arses off. You want us to work a twenty-four hour day?"

"It's only an extra few hours, and, I don't know. Couldn't you just increase volume or something?"

"You'll need a different menu. It's not as simple as just doubling quantities, you know."

Arthur scowled at his spreadsheet.

"Is there really any need to rush?" said Merlin, putting his hand gently on Arthur's arm. "All I'm saying is let's not run before we can walk, okay?"

"But we might get different people that way, people who wouldn't come during the day."

"It's a great idea, Arthur. It's just too soon, that's all. We've barely got enough staff as it is. Let the business grow a bit."

Arthur sighed. "It's just…"

He looked troubled; there was worry in his eyes and a deep frown between his brows. Merlin stroked his arm.

"What, Arthur? Things aren't going that badly, are they?"

"No. No, it's not that. It's nothing." Arthur smiled a hollow sort of smile, snapped his laptop closed and reached for his car keys. "Want a ride home? I can leave Leon to lock up."

It was pouring with rain outside, and Merlin hated the idea of Arthur going home alone to brood some more. "Thanks."

Arthur's car smelt of leather and had a lot of lights and dials on the dashboard. The seats were fully reclinable, which gave Merlin the sort of ideas he'd been trying very hard not to have about Arthur for a long time. 

He wasn't always as successful at that as he'd like to be.

They pulled up outside Merlin's building. Arthur had been very quiet all the way there, concentrating on the road and answering Merlin's chatter with faint smiles and shrugs.

He looked so tired: eyes shadowed, skin pale. 

"Maybe you should take a few days off," Merlin said. "We can manage. Probably."

"I don't think so, Merlin."

"I worry about you, you know. Are you sleeping all right?"

"I'm sleeping fine," said Arthur, tight-lipped. 

"Leon's worried about you too."

"Leon's _always_ worried about me. He's pretty much a professional at it."

"If you were in any trouble, you could tell me, you know. Anything at all. I promise, I wouldn't get all judgy or anything."

Arthur's smile was still mostly forced, but there was something grateful at the edges. "Thanks. You're a good friend, and I promise if I ever have some deep, dark secret to share, you'll be the first to know. But for now, all I need is a good night's sleep. Good night, Merlin."

"Goodnight, Arthur."

Merlin reached in for a hug, maybe an innocent kiss on the cheek, but Arthur startled as Merlin leaned in, and somehow the kiss didn't hit Arthur's cheek but his mouth, and because Arthur's mouth was open and he was making an 'oof' sort of noise as he jerked back, his tongue was right there, touching Merlin's.

Merlin kissed a lot. He was good at it; it had become a well-honed instinct and it happened without him really thinking about it.

Arthur made a horrified, strangled sort of noise and suddenly Merlin felt like he was that gawky seventeen year old virgin all over again. He pulled back and braced himself for whatever Arthur was going to throw at him this time.

"Don't _ever_ do that again," Arthur said, and wiping his mouth roughly with the back of his hand as if he'd tasted poison. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Arthur. Sorry. God. Sorry."

Merlin got out of the car, cursing himself for his mistake. He turned around and said, "Listen, i've got to-"

But Arthur slammed his foot on the accelerator and the car was roaring away before Merlin got to the end of his sentence.

*

Arthur arrived back at his flat more bemused than angry. As startling as it had been to have Merlin try to snog him like that, it was just Merlin. 

With the thought of Merlin, though, came a pang of guilt. Things at Albion had evolved in a way Arthur had never expected: instead of the detached, professional staff with which Arthur had expected to build the business, he seemed to have attracted a loyal team of talented misfits. They worked hard for him, and expected little in return except to make Albion a success.

The knowledge that any success they achieved would be temporary; that he had never seen fit to tell him this was a fleeting project, not a long-term enterprise, weighed heavy on Arthur's conscience.

He shed his clothes, brushed his teeth and slipped between soft sheets of the finest egyptian cotton, and, from exhaustion rather than relaxation, slept.

Arthur dreamed.

It was night time. There were fairy lights around the Tea Rooms windows, tasteful, twinkling like tiny golden stars. A jazz band played in the corner, slow and soft. Arthur could see Merlin in the kitchen; he had his eyes closed, arms raised above his head, swaying to the music, blissed-out. Arthur smiled.

But she was there, at the best table. The Critic.

"Well, well, Arthur Pendragon. You've made some very strong claims about this place.

"It's for father."

"Is that so? Well, let's see if he'll like it, shall we?"

She picked up a notebook and started to write in it with a scratchy pencil. "Magical food. Magical decor. Magical music." She made a tutting sound and shook her head. "But look at these figures. Where's the profit? What have you done, Arthur Pendragon? What have you done?"

She stood up. She was taller; her nails grew to talons; her eyes flashed gold and red and she mocked him with a terrible smile. 

"You don't think _this_ will impress your father, do you?"

He stared and stared, full of dread, and she laughed at him.

The room went dark. Everything went dark. There was a trembling, like an earthquake, like a falling building, his brain rattling in his pathetic, helpless skull-

No.

This wasn't a dream.

Someone was shaking him. 

Arthur woke.

"Father?"

"No, Arthur. It's me, Leon. Are you all right?"

Arthur blinked up at Leon's familiar face, not quite thinking. "There was a woman. Here. In the shop."

"We're not in the shop, Arthur. This is your flat. You were having a nightmare, yelling out in your sleep. I heard you from the spare room."

"What? No, I-"

"Come on, Arthur, wake up!" Leon snapped his fingers, but Arthur just frowned at him, confused. 

"You weren't there, it was... I don't know, it… she said…." Arthur cradled his head in his hands and fought the ludicrous urge to cry. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit."

"Shhh. It's all right." Arthur watched, numb, as Leon poured him a glass of water from the jug by the bed and handed it to him. He perched on the edge of the bed, radiating concern. "Would you like to tell me about it?"

"What, the dream? You'll think I'm pathetic."

"I've seen you be pathetic before, Arthur. I've been your friend since you were six, remember?"

Arthur managed a smile; Leon was right. He'd seen Arthur through worse. Like his spectacular meltdown that summer before university, when he'd followed Lucy Spencer around for a week like a lost puppy, only to overhear her telling her friends he was ridiculous and ugly and she was only interested in him for his money.

"It's a classic failure dream," Arthur said. "Woman turns up at the shop, tells me I'm crap. I've had it before. A lot, lately."

"Always the same woman?"

"Yeah. And she always tells me what a disappointment I am to my father. With a few variations on the theme; last time she told me I'd never play rugby again, and this time she was babbling on about magic. Then she grows into this monster. How crazy is that?"

"It's a bit eccentric, perhaps." Leon looked so kind that Arthur could hardly stand it. "But look at it this way. The shop's off to a great start. In a few months time you can show off your profits with your head held high and your father will have no choice but to be proud of you."

"Well… I suppose so."

"It's probably just your subconscious, telling you you needed to do this, to do something to really make your mark. Don't you think?"

It sounded so reasonable, the way Leon put it.

The dream faded, a little, and Arthur suddenly felt foolish. Very foolish indeed.

"Would you like anything to help you settle down again? Warm milk? Or something stronger?"

"No, thanks, Leon. You don't have to do all that stuff for me, you know. You're not my servant."

"I'm your friend," said Leon. "Just like Merlin. Or, well. Maybe not _quite_ like Merlin."

"Merlin?"

"I think he's very good for you. Stops you taking things so seriously."

"Merlin's my employee, that's all."

Arthur briefly remembered the almost-kiss in the car, and shook his head, as if hoping the memory might fall out.

"Perhaps it would be wise to think about changing that," said Leon.

"You're being ridiculous, Leon."

"He thinks very highly of you."

"Well, he should. I'm his boss."

"I don't think that's why-"

"I'm not gay, Leon," said Arthur, firmly.

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Of course I am! A man knows these things!"

"Only, you had that really intense friendship with that guy Oswald in the second year, I kind of assumed-"

"You assumed wrong! Bloody hell, Leon!"

"Things aren't always black and white, Arthur. There's always a sort of middle ground."

"Well there isn't for me, all right? And even if there was, I certainly wouldn't be occupying it with Merlin!"

Leon had that stubborn look on his face, the one that meant he wouldn't change his mind, whatever Arthur said or did. He'd just stay silent instead. It was highly irritating.

"I need him to be our pastry chef. That's all. I don't think of him any other way. Is that understood?"

"If you say so," said Leon, with a carefully neutral smile. 

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some more sleep."

"Of course." Leon stood up and rearranged the covers a little, all but tucking Arthur in. Then he padded to the door, and turned off the light, and Arthur felt suddenly guilty. Leon only ever wanted to help, after all. He'd put up with so much over the years.

"Leon?" 

"Yes?"

"Thanks," said Arthur, warmly.

"My pleasure," said Leon. "Goodnight, Arthur."

*

 

Arthur arrived at Pendragon Hall the following Sunday with his laptop, a CD and a sinking feeling. It was raining: rich summer rain, smelling of grass and heat, and he was inordinately pleased to see Gwen's familiar, smiling face when he entered the sunroom. It felt more like attending a board meeting than a family meal.

Morgana rose from her seat and gave him a hug as soon as Gwen had taken his coat and umbrella; Uther shook his hand and patted his shoulder, and they sat.

"Sorry I'm late," Arthur said. "Had a training session with my staff." (It had actually been more a matter of convincing Leon that yes, he could carry a cup of tea without sloshing most of it in the saucer, and there was no point in being afraid of being a waiter, of all things - but Uther really didn't need to know that.)

"Ah, the joys of the sole trader," said Uther, relaxing back into his huge rattan chair. "Never mind, you'll soon have someone to do all that for you."

"Well, father, we're doing well but I don't think we'll be able to justify an HR department just yet," said Arthur, with a smile. He helped himself to crumpets and strawberry jam. 

Uther laughed, briefly. "I mean, of course, when you return to Camelot Media."

"Oh. Yes, Father," said Arthur. "That reminds me, Morgana, I've got something for you to listen to."

"Yes? After the week I've had, anything that isn't overpaid execs whining at me about illegal downloading is welcome."

"It's a demo, I'm afraid." Arthur dug the CD out of his bag and passed it to her. "It's a band a friend of a friend's in, so it's a bit of a favour. But they're good. I think."

Morgana surveyed the CD critically, as if she could tell just by looking at it whether it would be any good or not. "Hmm. I'll give it a listen on the way home. Who's the friend? Anyone I know?"

"It's a guy called Gwaine. He works in my kitchens."

Uther snorted dismissively. "I hope you're not fraternising with the staff, Arthur."

"They work very hard for me. And I think it might be a useful signing."

"It's not a matter of how hard they work. It's about having clear boundaries and a respect for the chain of management. You are their boss, Arthur, not their friend."

"Can't I be both?"

"Good God, boy, don't they teach you anything at university these days?"

"Smoking pot?" said Morgana, helpfully. "Heavy drinking?"

"Real ale, mostly," said Arthur, with a grin, and took a bite of his crumpet.

But Uther was in no mood to be diverted. "You must remember this is a business you're running, Arthur, not a social club."

"I know, father. In fact, I've brought our current figures to show you. Here."

Arthur got out his laptop, opened the spreadsheets he'd carefully prepared, and placed it in front of Uther. 

Uther glanced swiftly over the figures with a well-practised eye and gave a little nod. To Arthur's amazement he actually looked impressed. 

"Well, I must say you've made a remarkable start, Arthur. Well done."

Arthur grinned broadly. "Thank you, father. It's been hard work, but I'm really pleased with how things are going. Of course, we need to start planning for Christmas now, I was thinking of doing something really special for late-night shopping, and-"

"Christmas?" said Uther. "But that's months away."

"Yes, but it takes a lot of planning…."

"I thought we were clear on this point, Arthur. I have been willing to indulge you in this project for a limited time, and I have been pleasantly surprised at all you've achieved. But this is not your future. You are my son, and one day you will inherit Camelot Enterprises and all that involves."

Arthur swallowed the last of his crumpet and took his laptop back from Uther, closing the lid with a soft thud. "I know that, Father. But you're not about to retire yet and I feel this project really could do well."

"You don't learn how to run a multi-national corporation in a few days, Arthur, it takes years. This project, as you call it, is all very well, but it's nothing compared to big business. The time has come for you to stop playing at it and start proper work."

Arthur stared at the delicately arranged slices of madeira cake in the centre of the table, and said nothing. A muscle twitched in his cheek; he noticed that the top of the cake was over-browned in places; Merlin's madeira cake was always even and covered in a delicate shake of fine brown sugar. 

"Father," said Morgana. "Aren't you being a little harsh?"

"I've indulged him enough," Uther said. "Put your café up for sale, Arthur, and move on."

"Tea room," Arthur mumbled. "It's a tea room."

"Why not give him until January, Father?" Morgana said, in that special tone of hers that managed to be reasonable and imploring all at once. "80% of high street profit is gained over the Christmas season, so it doesn't make sense to sell it now. Besides, I'm sure once he's found out what that time of year is really like in the catering trade he'll be begging to come back to us, don't you think?"

She finished off with a sly wink; her best weapon.

Uther sighed. "Oh, all right. Arthur, you start full time work at Camelot on January 1st, and that's the end of it, tea shop or no tea shop. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Father, of course," said Arthur, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Thank you."

"I'm glad that's settled," said Morgana. "Now, Father, tell Arthur about your new acquisition strategy. I'm sure he'll be fascinated."

Arthur reached for another crumpet, and braced himself.

*


	5. Chapter 5

It was a Wednesday, which meant that Merlin's day would be a little less hectic than it usually was. Wednesdays were always quiet. Some of the neighbouring shops closed altogether on Wednesdays, including the antique shop, the old-fashioned opticians and the place that sold the creepy dolls. It gave the High Street a lost, tumbleweed sort of atmosphere that stood in sharp contrast to the mayhem of Saturdays.

It was because it was so quiet that Arthur usually chose Wednesday afternoons for doing chores that took him out of the shop, such as going to the bank, which was precisely where he was on this particular Wednesday. Merlin sat on the high stool at the counter, while around the corner at the back of the restaurant, Gwen tried yet again to show Leon how to lay a table for high tea. They were expecting a private party in at the weekend, a group of friends Morgana was entertaining, and Leon needed all the practice he could get. Gwaine sat near the counter, folding boxes for the weekend deliveries. It was strangely peaceful, watching him go through the same sequence of movements, skillful fingers folding and slotting while in the background Gwen's patient voice murmured reassuring instructions to a hesitant Leon.

It was so peaceful, in fact, that Merlin must have drifted off, because he jumped when the bell over the door went and nearly fell off his stool. Gwaine burst out laughing. 

"Hello," said the customer. She was young, pretty, with long, dark hair and a shy smile that Merlin immediately warmed to. "So this is the famous Albion Tea Rooms."

"That's us," said Merlin. "Would you like a table?"

"No, thank you. I'm afraid I can't. But I've heard wonderful things about your strawberry cup cakes." She smiled, a lovely smile that lit up her face. "Is it true that they're made with real fairy dust?"

They weren't of course. His magic didn't work that way at all. But he'd had enough misunderstandings arise in the past that he was particularly emphatic when he said, "No, not at all, no. All natural ingredients! Honest!"

She laughed. "Okay. In that case I'll take half a dozen, please?"

"Of course! Thank you!"

Merlin fetched the cakes, each topped with a fresh strawberry and a glittering scatter of finely crushed meringue, and packed them safely into a box. 

His customer took them carefully, as if handling the most delicate of treasures, and handed over her money with a little nod of thanks.

Merlin watched her leave, and sat back on his stool with a satisfied sigh. 

"You really like this, don't you?" Gwaine said. 

"Yes, I suppose I do. It's nice when something you do makes other people happy."

"I get that," said Gwaine. "Yeah. And it doesn't hurt when they're as sweet as that."

Merlin smacked Gwaine's hand.

Leon and Gwen wound their way through the empty tables from the back of the shop, and joined them at the counter. Gwen set a tray of chocolate eclairs and crockery they'd been practising with down on the counter. Leon was wringing a soggy tablecloth between his hands, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.

"I'll practise," he told Gwen. "I'll practise and practise, I promise."

Gwen patted his arm reassuringly. "It will be absolutely fine. Just remember to keep breathing and take things nice and steady."

"I take it the tea pouring practise still isn't going too well?" Merlin eyed the dripping tablecloth.

"It's the teapots. They dribble so. And sometimes the lids fall off."

"Never mind. Practice makes perfect, eh?"

"Tell that to Arthur," Leon muttered.

"Tell what to Arthur?" said Gwaine, shoving an eclair into his mouth. Whole.

"Stop doing that," Merlin said. "This is a quality establishment. You'll put off the customers."

"What customers?" said Gwaine, spitting cream.

"Don't be disgusting," said Merlin, and took the plate from him. Gwaine made a pathetic whining noise, his eyes fixed firmly on the remaining eclairs.

"Here comes Arthur," said Leon, and Gwaine sullenly wiped his mouth on a napkin, while Merlin hid the plate under the counter along with Leon's soggy tablecloth.

"Hello, Arthur!" they chorused innocently, as Arthur stepped through the door.

"Hello," he said, instantly suspicious. "Busy?"

"Typical Wednesday," said Merlin. "But now you're back I'll go and get ready for the four o'clock rush."

Arthur took up his usual post at the counter, while Merlin and Gwaine headed back to the kitchen. Gwaine worked quickly, getting bowls and ingredients ready for Merlin to use. He was learning fast. 

"I think Leon's getting better. He didn't break anything this time."

Merlin began to whisk eggs and sugar, deft-wristed. "He tries his best, Gwaine. I really think one day he'll…"

Merlin's voice tailed off and he tipped his head to one side, listening hard. He'd thought he'd heard a voice. A very familiar voice.

"What's wrong?" said Gwaine.

"Shh." The voice was coming from the shop.

"Sounds a bit cockney," said Gwaine. 

"Hm," said Merlin.

He could hear Arthur saying, "Yes, Merlin works here," -

\- And then the other voice said, "You're kidding me! He could be feeding the crowned heads of Europe, and he's wasting himself in this greasy spoon?"

"I beg your pardon?!"

Gwaine burst out laughing, but Merlin barely noticed, dashing out of the kitchen and into the cafe. 

"Hey, what the hell are you calling a greasy spoon!" Merlin yelled.

The man turned and glared at him, but his eyes were twinkling.

"There you are, you slacker," he said.

Merlin rushed over and hugged him, hard, breathing in the scent of sugar and aftershave and coconut shampoo. 

They broke apart and grinned at each other.

"It's good to see you, Will," Merlin said.

"You too," said Will. Then he hugged Merlin again, leaving a warm, if fleeting, kiss upon his lips.

*

Arthur stared. Either this was an extreme case of Merlin's Demonic Charm taking effect instantaneously, or he actually knew this person. "Merlin?" Arthur did his best to keep his voice level. "Would you care to introduce us?"

Merlin stepped back at last, out of the unpleasant bastard's arms. "You don't recognise him?" He was beaming all over his stupid face.

"'Course he doesn't," said object of Merlin's affections. "He's fucking ignorant for a posh git."

The cockney accent (which Arthur was sure was affected) was almost as annoying as the guy's stupid hair and stupid attitude and the stupid scarf wrapped around his neck. 

"This is Will!" said Merlin. "He's a celebrity chef!"

"He's on TV all the time," added Gwaine, excitedly. 

"Really?" said Arthur. 

"Yes!" said Merlin. "But I met him before he was famous. Will was my boss in London for over a year."

"And your lover," said Will, with a long, fond look.

"Isn't everybody," Arthur muttered under his breath.

"I've had a gig near here for the BBC," Will told Merlin. "I'm sitting around bored out of my skull in the hotel bar one night, so I pick up the local paper - and bloody hell, there's a picture of you and wassisface here, outside this place. I couldn't believe it. What the fuck are you doing here, Merlin?"

"What I always do," said Merlin.

"I thought you were going freelance."

"Well, I am, sort of. Arthur lets me do whatever I want in the kitchen."

"I bet he does," said Will, giving Arthur what could only be described as a very nasty look. "You're not doing him, though, are you?"

"No!" Arthur said, angrily. "No! Of course not! And I'm standing right here!" 

Will pulled Merlin close, too close, nose-to-nose. "Good. Because if you're still single, I might just have found somewhere to sleep tonight."

Arthur couldn't help himself. "Hey! Stop that!" he yelled. "This is a respectable tea shop, not a bloody night club!

"Jealous, mate?" Will said, smirking.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Arthur. "You'll put off the customers." 

"What customers?" said Will. 

"Will," Merlin said. "Please, don't-"

"He shouldn't be such a pompous twat, then," said Will. "What is this, Arthur? A tax loss scam for Camelot Enterprises?"

Arthur pulled his arm back ready to hit, furious and not caring, but Leon was at his elbow and caught him, tugged him back, and suddenly he was looking not at Will but Gwaine, who'd put himself between the two of them, looking surprisingly imposing. 

"Merlin," Arthur said. "Tell your boyfriend you'll meet him after work. You're still on my time."

"He's not my boyfriend," Merlin said. "But seeing as you two seem determined to act like idiots, it's probably for the best if you go, Will. I'll meet you in the Rising Sun at seven. It's just around the corner."

Will kissed Merlin (impertinently, in Arthur's opinion) on the cheek, nodded at Gwaine and Leon, gave Arthur a look of pure poison, and left.

Arthur could feel Merlin staring at him, but he didn't want to look back. He felt miserable and a bit sick, and it was taking every ounce of his self-control not to storm out, find Will and pummel his stupid face into mush. 

"I don't like him," he said. "That's all. Get back to work, all of you."

"He's an old friend and very well thought of in the trade, and he's influential in the media. He could help us a lot," Merlin said.

"I don't give a fuck! And I certainly don't need any help from the likes of him! I said, back to work!"

Gwaine steered Merlin back to the kitchen, distracting him with stupid questions about Paris and pastry chefs and hotels. Leon remained at Arthur's side, oozing sympathy that was probably more about calming Arthur down than genuinely siding with him. 

"I didn't like his attitude," Arthur said.

"He was very rude," Leon said, in his calm, measured way.

Arthur slumped back on the stool, anger gone and taking most of his energy with it. "Shit. Is he really famous, Leon?"

"Yes, he's on telly quite a lot. Books, videos, public appearances, that sort of thing."

"God, I'm a failure," Arthur said. "Soon-to-be-head of Camelot Media and I can't even recognise a celeb when he's in my shop molesting my pastry chef. Morgana would have had him in the office signing an exclusive contract by now."

"I'm pretty sure the BBC already have him, actually," said Leon. "He's done shows for them for years. And honestly, it looked more like a social call to me."

Arthur thumped his forehead down on the cash register and mumbled, "Why me?"

The bell rang and a bunch of girls came in, giggling and chattering ten to the dozen. To Arthur's relief, Leon stepped forwards.

"Good afternoon, ladies. How can I help you?"

*

Merlin arrived at work the next morning to find everyone else already in, gathered around the serving counter drinking coffee. They all looked up expectantly when he came in - except for Arthur, who had his nose buried firmly in the morning paper. 

"Well?" said Gwaine, excitedly. "How was it?"

"How was what?" said Merlin.

"What do you think? Will! Come on, man, spill the beans."

"There's really not much to say."

"Don't be stupid," said Gwaine. "You've got a grin on your face like you've been shagged seven ways 'til Sunday!"

Arthur spluttered into his coffee.

"It's not like that," said Merlin. "We went for a drink, and dinner, and then he went back to his hotel, and I went home."

"Glad to hear it," muttered Arthur, not looking up.

"I don't believe you!" said Gwaine.

"Shh, Gwaine," said Gwen. "It's really none of our business."

"It's okay," said Merlin. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"That's not the end, though, surely?" said Gwaine. "Are you going to see him again?"

Merlin couldn't help a twitch of a grin. "Maybe."

"When?"

"Tonight. He's collecting me after work."

"Well, that's nice," said Gwen. "You can rely on us not to make any fuss, can't he, Gwaine?"

"Thanks," said Merlin. "He's okay with it, though. He's very passionate about what he does."

Arthur rustled his newspaper. "And that would be, exactly?"

"Educating people about food," said Merlin. "Plus, he's one of the most creative chefs in the world. I was very lucky to study under him."

Gwaine made a 'oo-er' noise. Gwen smacked him. 

"I'm sure that's very noble of him," Arthur said. "Now, shall we stop lounging around meddling in Merlin's private life and start work? There's a big order to make up for office deliveries as well as the usual."

There was a clatter of cups and a scrape of chairs as everyone left to go about their duties, but Merlin stayed behind. He watched as Arthur neatly folded his newspaper and drained the last of his coffee.

"Yes, Merlin?" he said, looking him in the eye at last. 

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Merlin said. "It was unprofessional of me, and it won't happen again."

"Make sure it doesn't," said Arthur, but there wasn't any anger in his voice that Merlin could discern. 

"It's just that he is sort of an old friend and-"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Merlin. Come on, let's get to work. We've got a long day ahead of us."

*

Arthur watched his uncle finish off the last of his tiramasu, knowing, even though he never touched the stuff himself, that Merlin's was better. The thought was both comforting and aggravating all at once, and it made Arthur stir his coffee so hard it sloshed over the side of the cup.

"Delicious," Agravaine said with a contented sigh, and pushed his plate away.

"You must come to the tea rooms one day, Uncle," said Arthur. "My pastry-chef is amazing."

"I'm sure he is. I must say, Arthur, you've done a great job there. To get a business from nothing to profit in just a few short months is nothing short of a miracle!"

"Potentially in profit," said Arthur. "The projections in the business plan are for the first year. It's early days yet."

"Even so. I've looked at the figures you sent me, my boy, and I think you're doing very well indeed."

"Thank you, Uncle." Arthur took a sip of coffee. "I only wish my father agreed with you. I told you he's closing me down in January, didn't I?"

"Yes, I've been thinking about that. Has it occurred to you, Arthur, that there might be more to this than meets the eye?"

"More to what?"

"It seems strange that Uther, one of the most powerful businessmen of our time, would ask you, his son and heir, to give up on a venture as successful as this one, especially when he initially agreed to give you a whole year. Does it not?"

"I don't think he sees it that way, Uncle. He was just humouring me. To him Albion is just a game. And a pretty pathetic one at that."

"And yet he consented to you beginning it, did he not?"

"Well, yes."

"Consider this, Arthur. What if his latest move is, in fact, a test?"

"A test?"

"If you are to be a member of the board one day, you will need to convince them that you have all the skills your father has, and more. It's not enough simply to inherit the company. You will have to prove you can run it every bit as well as your father did, if not better. The likelihood is that you will not hold majority shares, after all; he is bound to leave something to your sister."

"All the more reason he wants me to start working for the company as soon as possible."

"But what if he's making sure you're ready? He knows you've got a good head for business, your qualifications are outstanding. But big business demands more than that, Arthur. When the time comes you must be ruthless. Decisive. Single-minded. And you must resist all temptation to take short cuts under pressure; you will no doubt have read about the latest scandal about Network Rail resorting to the use of magic to resist bankruptcy. My point is this: what if your father is putting up opposition to test your mettle?"

"You mean he wanted me to fight for it?"

"Yes, exactly! That's what real business is like, my boy. You don't just roll over belly-up and do as you're told. You have to fight hard to defend your ideas. You have to be ruthless to show your competitors and your Board that you're not to be trifled with!"

"So you think I should go against my father's wishes?"

"No, not against his wishes. Against his _directive_. I think what he wishes for more than anything is for you to show him you're just as good and honest a businessman as he is."

"Oh." Arthur leaned back in his chair and let that sink in, while his uncle sucked on an after-dinner mint. It hadn't even occurred to him that Uther might not mean for him to do as he was told. But perhaps Agravaine had a point. Perhaps this _was_ a test.

"I confess I'm in no hurry to sell up," he said. "I think there's a lot of potential we haven't explored yet."

"Exactly! I'm sure your father wouldn't want you to give up when there's still so much potential for growth available to you."

"Well." It was a seductive theory. The more he thought about it the more miserable Arthur had felt about giving up on Albion. And Agravaine knew his father very well - not just as a relative, but as a businessman. "Perhaps there's hope after all, Uncle."

"That's the spirit! Of course, the thing that would impress Uther the most wouldn't be just to defy him, but to make a really bold, dramatic gesture."

"Such as?" said Arthur, dubiously.

"Expansion."

"Oh no, it's much too early for that."

"Come, now, Arthur. There's no room for caution in the world of catering. You must keep an eye on your competitors."

"I don't really have any competitors. Well, only the pub, and that's really got a completely different clientele."

"What about the shop over the road? The one with the big bay front and the quaint little bell over the door?"

"Bayards? They sell books, not cake."

"Is that so? I popped in there this morning on my way to see you, and I noticed they have a nice little area towards the back of the shop with big comfortable armchairs. Do you know what they sell back there, Arthur?"

"Um… more books?"

"Coffee, Arthur! Coffee, and tea, and muffins."

Arthur couldn't help laughing. "That's hardly a threat to us."

"Isn't it? How many independent bookshops are there out there these days?"

"Bookshops? I don't know, it's really not my area of expertise"

"Wrong! The whole High Street is your business, Arthur. Every shop on that stretch of road could be friend or foe, and their allegiance could change in the blink of an eye! Bayards can't be doing any better than most high street bookshops these days - it's a dinosaur sitting out its short, miserable wait for extinction. Dying businesses get desperate, my boy. What if they find out that the coffee and muffins sell better than the books? This is how it happens: they put in an extra couple of tables, get rid of a few bookshelves, start selling sandwiches to attract the lunchtime crowd. One buffet for a book launch and voila! They're not a bookshop with a cafe on the side any more. They're a cafe with a few books for sale! And where are you, Arthur? Where are you?"

Arthur's eyes were wide; he thought he knew his business, he really did. But the way his Uncle described things made him feel like the novice he really was. 

"Ignore Uther," Agravaine said, spinning his credit card deftly onto the little tray the waiter had left with the bill. "Make Bayards an offer they can't refuse. Expand. Then sell - not when your father tells you to, but when you, with your acute business instincts, know it's right. It's the only way to prove yourself. Trust me."

Arthur imagined the pride on his father's face. _'You see, Father, I had to go with my instincts. I made my own decisions and stood by them. I had to show you I can make the tough decisions, just like you. I really am the son you wanted.'_

"Thank you, Uncle," he said as they stood to leave the restaurant. "You've really opened my eyes."

"My pleasure," Agravaine said, with a firm pat to his nephew's shoulder. "Really, it's the least I can do."

*

Merlin lay in rumpled cotton sheets, his legs tangled with Will's, Will's head on his shoulder. He played with his lover's hair, feeling warm and content, enjoying the afterglow. The past two weeks had been a very pleasant whirlwind of sex and nostalgia, and it was good to have someone to come home to. He could get used to this.

"I was a bloody idiot to let you go," Will said, tracing little patterns on Merlin's arm. "After you left I was a right mess. Kept thinking." He kissed Merlin's cheek. "What if I'd listened to you?" And his neck. "What if I'd trusted you?"

"That's in the past now."

"Yes. Yes, it is, Merlin, and I'm going to make it up to you, I swear."

Merlin snuggled in close and Will kissed him, quick and fleeting, then sat up and reached for his wine glass, still half full. Merlin knelt up too, missing the warmth of Will's body, and tugged the blanket around his shoulders. Will kissed him on the nose, on his cheek. Far more affectionate than Merlin remembered. He rather liked it. 

"I have an interesting bit of news," Will said.

"Really?"

"I had a meeting with some people today and I've been offered some telly. My own show."

"That's fantastic!" Merlin hugged him hard. "What's it about?"

"It's called 'The Chef Factor'. It's one of them reality things. They have three judges, one for general cooking skills, a saucier and a pastry chef. Each judge coaches the contestants on their speciality, people get voted off by the public, the usual. I'm the main presenter. I do the links, voiceovers and demonstrate things people can try at home. Great format. You can imagine it, can't you? Tears, drama and cake. Fucking spot on. Oh, and guess where it's filming?"

"Where?"

"London and Paris. Regional auditions, then the first phase in London and the finals at the Ritz in Paris."

"No! Really?" Merlin sat back on his heels, his pride and excitement for Will tinged just a little with disappointment.

"Don't worry," Will said. "It won't stop us being together."

"Well, I suppose not," said Merlin, determined to look on the bright side as this meant so much to Will. "There's phone sex and cyber sex, and I could visit. London's fine and it would be good to see Paris again."

"Nah, you won't have to do any of that. You'll be right there with me. You're gonna be the pastry-chef judge."

Merlin stared at him, stunned. "What? Me? On television?"

"Yes, Merlin, you!" Will chuckled in delight. "Well, you'll have to audition and everything, go through the process. But I know you'll get it. You've got the prettiest face for TV and you're good with people. It'll be great exposure for you. You'll get all sorts of deals off the back of it - cookery books, public appearances, magazine rights, the lot."

"Wow. I mean, I'll have to think it over. But, wow."

"What is there to think about?"

"Nothing. Everything. It's a big step, Will, travelling, leaving my friends and my job... I have responsibilities."

"So? Get rid of 'em. You're going to be famous, Merlin!"

Excitement bubbled over, and Merlin laughed at of the sheer manic joy of it. 

"Fucking hell, I'm glad I found you again," Will said, and pulled Merlin back down on the bed. "Forget about making cupcakes in fucking Berkshire. We're gonna make you a star."

*

It had become something of a Thursday night tradition, curry night at The Nawab, just around the corner from the Tea Rooms. Very tasty lamb jalfrezi washed down with ice-cold lager and an hour or two of the easy banter that the four of them fell into after work. But this Thursday there was nothing easy about it at all. Arthur was trying hard to keep the hard knot of disappointment to himself, but Gwaine was vocally upset. 

"You can't go! Arthur, tell him, he can't go!"

"Gwaine, leave Arthur alone," said Merlin. "It's still early days, nothing's definite. I haven't even seen a contract. I need to pass an audition, and an interview. Really, it's more of a concept."

"But what d'you want to go and be famous for? Seriously, I thought it was all about the cooking with you, not the ego."

"Gwaine, that's enough," said Arthur. "Merlin's a free man. He can do what he likes."

"It's only because you're not paying him enough," said Gwaine.

"I don't think I can compete with the kind of money he'd get from television."

"How much have they offered?" Gwaine asked Merlin.

"Nothing, yet," said Merlin. "Will thinks it might be quite a bit."

"I'd expect a hundred thousand," said Arthur. "Give or take, for the first series. Don't accept less, Merlin."

Leon gave a low whistle.

"See," Arthur said, as lightly as he could. "I can't compete with that kind of money."

"You are such an idiot sometimes," Gwaine muttered. "Your father's a fucking billionaire."

"Money isn't everything," Merlin said, quietly. Arthur was aware that Merlin kept glancing at him, just little looks, but he wasn't sure what it meant. He kept getting the feeling he was supposed to say something, but what? He'd been very gracious. He'd said how pleased he was, what a fantastic opportunity this was for Merlin, how much he deserved it. What else could he say? That the thought of running the tea room without him filled him with dread and sadness? That he'd do anything in his power to stop Merlin from leaving? That would be ridiculous.

"Tell us, Merlin," said Leon. "Why did you and Will part ways back in France?"

Merlin snapped a poppadum in half, and in half again, and nibbled on one of the fragments he'd created. "We fought a lot."

"You seemed very pleased to see each other again," said Leon. 

Arthur watched Merlin as he answered; noted the almost-shy smile that spread across Merlin's face, dimpling his cheeks. 

"Yes," said Merlin. "I think things will be different this time. We've both grown up a lot."

"It's not always a good idea to work together if you're going to argue all the time," said Gwaine.

"Oh, I don't know," said Arthur. "We always managed, didn't we Merlin?"

"That's different," Merlin said, with a laugh.

And Arthur supposed it was.

*

Merlin walked along the High Street with an extra spring in his step. It was early but the sun was bright and the air already warm, burning mist off the pavement. He was about to cross the road to the shop when he noticed a young woman further up the street. She appeared to be struggling, balancing a large bag on one knee while she rummaged through it, holding a wallet between her teeth.

Merlin jogged up to her.

"Can I give you a hand?"

She looked up, opened her mouth to say something; the wallet fell and in the reflex to catch it she dropped her bag, which scattered its contents all over the pavement.

Merlin recognised her: she'd come into the shop a few weeks ago. Fairy dust cupcakes.

"I'm so sorry!" he said, helping her to collect together her belongings.

"Oh, please don't worry, it's not your fault," she replied. 

"I'm Merlin," he said.

"Freya," she replied. "It's okay, I can manage, really."

"No, if it wasn't for me you wouldn't have dropped everything. Let me help." 

"Thanks," she smiled. "Ah, there's my keys, at any rate."

"And here's your… dreamcatcher?" He held it up: a circle of willow with feathers and beads dangling from it. It tingled with a faint suggestion of power.

"Oh, that old thing! I bought that at a festival three years ago, never quite got around to putting it up anywhere."

Merlin chuckled. "I'm guessing you don't clean your bag out too often?"

"It's a work in progress." She gave him another smile, taking the dreamcatcher from him and popping it back in her bag. "This is probably the closest I've come for quite a while. See these old receipts here? I'm going to actually throw them away right now!"

"Very ruthless of you," Merlin said. 

She looked around but of course there was no bin, so she stuffed them in her pocket. Merlin put the last thing in her bag (a small pot of lip balm) and they both stood up. "Thanks, Merlin."

"My pleasure. We've met before, I think. I work in the tea rooms over there."

"I remember. Those cakes were delicious, my friends loved them. They were for my birthday party."

"If I'd known I'd have stuck a candle in them for you!"

"Maybe next year."

"It's a promise. Well, I suppose I ought to get to work."

"Me too." She nodded towards the shop door they were standing by. "Now I can actually get inside!"

"Oh, I see," said Merlin. "You work in a bookshop?"

"All those books in the window are a big of a give-away, aren't they?"

"Can't get anything past me. Well, I'll leave you to it. Have a good day, Freya."

"Thanks." Freya stuck her key in the lock and then hesitated. "Are you in a hurry? I could make you a coffee if you like. You know, to repay you. For helping. You're very nice. I mean, it was very nice of you."

"Ah." Merlin gave her an apologetic smile. "That would be really nice, but this is where I should be honest with you. I'm gay. And seeing someone."

Freya blushed to her roots, leaned too heavily on the door and half-fell into the shop. Her bag would have upended itself all over again if Merlin hadn't caught it.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't, that is I hadn't… oh God, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Merlin said. "If I wasn't gay I'd totally be interested, I promise. You're very beautiful."

"No I'm not," said Freya. "Would you like some anyway? Coffee, I mean?"

Merlin glanced over his shoulder at the Albion. He'd be late. Arthur would have to open up, Gwaine would have to start the morning baking, Leon would have to feed Arthur coffee until he started to behave like a human being… 

"I'd love one," said Merlin.

He followed Freya through to the back of the shop, where there was a casual seating area and a huge coffee machine.

"How long have you worked here?" he asked, putting Freya's bag down on low coffee table between two comfortable-looking sofas. 

"Nearly two months now. I was moved here from our main branch, but this suits me better because I live closer. It was a pain having to rely on buses all the time."

Merlin looked around: it was a big shop, mismatched bookshelves interspersed with casual seating. There was a kid's area with a brightly coloured carpet strewn with Lego and chunky picture books. 

"It's very inviting," Merlin said.

Freya lined up a couple of 'Keep Calm and Read Books' mugs next to the coffee machine. "Thanks. Cappuccino?"

"Lovely," said Merlin.

"I wish more people thought it was inviting," said Freya. "They sent me over here to try and make a go of things, but it's not easy. Bookshops aren't very fashionable these days and you have to shift a hell of a lot to make a profit what with Amazon and Kindle…"

"That's a shame. You can't beat a real book, can you?"

"Well, I don't think so."

Freya made two mugs of cappuccino and handed one to Merlin. "This is the latest idea, selling coffee. Anything to get punters through the door."

"It's not a bad idea," said Merlin, and took a sip. "It's nice coffee."

"D'you want a biscuit? I think I've got some custard creams somewhere…."

"No thanks. Is it working? The coffee idea?"

"Not so much, really. It was bad luck, your place opening up around the same time. You have a lot more to offer than we do."

"We don't have books."

"But you have the cake and pastries and the lovely china and everything. It's a pretty amazing place." Merlin felt a little buzz of pride. "Anyway," Freya continued. "We get customers coming over from you sometimes. Anything that gets people onto the High Street is a good thing these days."

"You're a very generous person, aren't you?"

"Says the man who went out of his way to help a damsel in distress."

They smiled at each other. Merlin's mind was racing. "I think I might have an idea. What if you didn't just sell coffee? What if you sold cake as well?"

"And compete with you? That wouldn't be very fair, would it?"

"It would if you bought the cake from us in the first place. I could supply you with biscotti and flapjacks, quite different from the things we sell at the Albion. We could come to some sort of arrangement."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"I don't see why not. I'll have a word with Arthur about it."

"Oh. Arthur Pendragon. Of course." She frowned.

"What's the matter?"

"Well, the Pendragons aren't exactly renowned for their generous business practises, are they? This is Camelot we're talking about."

"But Arthur's different! Really, he's not like that at all. He's a very nice person when you get to know him."

She didn't look convinced.

"Leave it to me," Merlin said. "Everything will work out fine. You'll see."

*


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur was in a foul mood. He'd been chewing over Agravaine's advice for days and he still couldn't decide what to do. He wasn't sleeping well. And to top it all, Merlin was nearly half an hour late for work, and he didn't trust Gwaine alone in the kitchen one little bit.

The thought that if Merlin took off with Will this could become a permanent state of affairs made Arthur think it might be better to call it a day after all, whatever gauntlet his father might or might not be throwing down at him.

Arthur slumped at his desk, miserable. There was a knock at the door, and initially the sight of Gwen coming in cheered him a great deal; Gwen was a true ally, staunch, loyal and level-headed. Her smile always made him feel better. 

She looked worried.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," she said. "This isn't proper, I know it isn't, but I have to say something."

Arthur's heart sank. "Yes?"

"I was wondering, it's just…. When are you going to tell them?"

"What? Who?"

"The others. About closing in January. I know it's none of my business, and I shouldn't take notice of things that are said in your father's house while I'm serving, but this is just… I care about these people. They're all lovely, and Merlin's one of my best friends. I was just in the kitchen and Gwaine's talking about Easter eggs and Leon's planning on taking some kind of training course…."

"I'll tell them when the time's right, Gwen."

"What's wrong with telling them now? And what about Merlin?"

"What do you mean, 'what about Merlin'? Apart from the fact he hasn't turned up for work - I don't suppose you know where he is?"

"Merlin's never late. I'm sure he'll be here soon. But he has to make some really big decisions, Arthur. I can't believe you're letting him torture himself about whether to leave with Will or not, when there won't even be a job here after January!"

"I'm not getting in his way. I've been very clear he should take whatever opportunities come his way."

"You're not being honest with him, either. How can he make a proper decision without knowing all the facts?"

"Whatever I say to him is irrelevant, Gwen. He's hardly going to give up an offer like that to stay here, is he? He's as good as gone, and it's probably all for the best."

"I'm sorry, Arthur, but I don't agree. What about Gwaine and Leon?"

Arthur sighed deeply. "They'll get proper notice. Look, Gwen, these people are my employees, not my friends. This is my business and I'll manage it as I see fit!"

Gwen stood very still for a moment. She looked more angry than Arthur had thought her capable of. It wasn't Morgana's cold, ruthless anger. Gwen looked sad and disappointed and very, very fierce.

He found himself leaning back in his chair, hands braced on his desk.

"All right then," she said. "I've said what I came to say. But I can't hang around here and watch you screw my friends over, Arthur Pendragon, I just can't. Whatever games you're playing, you can play them without me!"

She turned away; Arthur rose from his seat. "Wait! What will you tell them?"

"Nothing. It's not my place. But I won't help you. I don't like lying to them, and if you had an ounce of a conscience in you you wouldn't, either!"

And with that she walked out, leaving the door shuddering in her wake.

*

When Merlin finally arrived at Albion, a full half-hour late, he found Arthur in such a temper that he didn't even attempt to apologise. Instead he entered the flurry of his kitchen in full force and, thanks to a mid-morning rush followed swiftly by a busy lunchtime, he didn't have a moment to spare until mid afternoon. By then Arthur had made it plain he'd be spending the rest of the day in his office, and after the look on his face when he handed over the counter to Leon, there was no way Merlin would risk interrupting Arthur and voluntarily put himself in the firing line.

Shortly after four, Arthur announced gruffly that he was going to attend to some business, and wouldn't be back until the following day. Merlin found himself relieved.

Thankfully the rest of the afternoon was relatively peaceful, and having seen Gwaine and Leon off the premises and locked up, Merlin considered his options. Will had gone to the city for some big meeting at the BBC, and wouldn't be home until late. Gwen and Lance were going out to dinner to celebrate some kind of romantic anniversary, and Merlin wasn't really in the mood for clubbing on his own. Besides, there were a few things he could do with talking over with someone who had nothing to do with Albion Tea Rooms and wasn't starstruck by the thought of celebrity chefs. So Merlin took a brief walk in the summer air to the railway station, and caught a train to Oxford.

*

Merlin watched with a smile as Gaius sat in his big leather armchair and luxuriated in the ginger cake Merlin had brought him. It was gooey and spiced with cinnamon, just the way he liked it. Merlin loved the happiness his food brought people, and none so much as his old friend.

"Delicious," Gaius pronounced, wiping sticky crumbs from his lips with a tissue. "You truly are a man of many talents, Merlin."

"At least this one's acceptable in public," Merlin replied.

"What brings you to me on this fine evening? Not trouble, I hope."

"No, no. At least, not the usual kind of trouble."

"Well, that's a relief. Everything all right at work, then?"

"Yes, it's fine, great in fact. Um, Will's back."

"Oh," said Gaius, his eyes narrowing in disapproval.

"He's changed! Really, he has. We haven't been fighting or anything. We're getting on really well."

"But you are together. In the romantic sense of the word?"

"Well… yes." Merlin looked down at the table, and gathered up a few stray crumbs with the pad of his index finger, assembling them in a neat cluster and avoiding Gaius's gaze. 

"Merlin, do you really think this is wise? Do I have to remind you what happened last time?"

"Things were different then. He'd never met anyone like me before, and it was so good to be open about my magic with someone. He says he got so jealous because he was young and too in love with me."

"And what makes you think it's different now?"

"He's been really nice to me! He hasn't got jealous at all. And he's trying to get me a job on a TV show with him."

"Television? I thought you liked cooking."

"Of course I do, it would still be cooking anyway, kind of. It's a cooking programme, and I just… he really wants me to do it."

"Would you still be able to work at Albion?"

Merlin squirmed a bit under Gaius's rather intense scrutiny. "Well, no. That's the thing. It's in London and then there's travel, and it would be a pretty full-time job. I'd have to leave Arthur."

"Merlin, please think carefully about this. You've been so happy at Albion. In fact I don't think I ever remember you being so content. Do you really want to give all that up?"

"Yes, but it has its difficult side too. Like, it's not just that I work for Arthur, he treats me like a friend, which is great. Well, when he's not in a foul mood. But on the other hand, with his father how he is about magic, I can never really admit to what I am, not properly. And besides. I get lonely."

A little smile appeared on Gaius's lips. "You still carry a torch for Arthur, after all these years."

"I do not!" said Merlin. "Of course I don't. He's straight, remember? It's true that if it wasn't for Arthur I would never have found out where my magic came from. I'll always be grateful to him for that. That's all. I don't feel anything for him any more."

Gaius raised an eyebrow; Merlin looked down at the floor.

"It's ironic," Gaius said. "That Arthur showed you what your true nature is, and yet hadn't a clue about it himself. And naturally, it has to stay that way."

"I've thought of telling him. It's all right, don't look at me like that, I wouldn't. I know the rules and I know the risks. But it's not fair, and I think if things were different, if Arthur wasn't a bloody Pendragon, well. He would have understood."

"Perhaps. But he _is_ a Pendragon, and unfortunately he will have inherited his father's prejudices. Please be careful, Merlin."

"I will. Anyway, I have a relationship with Will," Merlin said. "He has all these dreams for me, big dreams. He was always the one to push me to be better, to make something of myself."

"He broke your heart, Merlin." 

"So did Arthur," said Merlin with a wry grin. "I really do have rotten taste in men, don't I?"

"It is a shame celibacy isn't really an option," said Gaius straight-faced.

Merlin laughed. 

"Think it over carefully, Merlin. That's all I ask. And with your head, not your… magic."

"Okay. I will. Promise. Thanks, Gaius."

"Now, put the kettle on boy, and we'll have another bit of that ginger cake…"

*

Morgana put a small square of Le Craquant d'Albion into her mouth - a unique dark chocolate sponge layered with apple-tinted praline and chocolate ganache and topped with a glossy, dark chocolate glaze. She closed her eyes for a moment's bliss. Arthur was used to seeing that expression on the faces of women who came to Albion. He couldn't help but take a moment's satisfaction from it, even if was all Merlin's work, really.

Morgana took a sip of her tea. The cup clinked in its saucer, echoey in the empty restaurant. Merlin and the others had long since gone home. Morgana's diary afforded precious little space for seeing her brother these days, it seemed. But there was something peaceful about the place like this: low lighting, the quiet, drifting melodies of Debussy on the stereo. It was almost magical.

"Now I understand the secret of your success, Arthur Pendragon," Morgana said, delicately licking her lips. "I'll give you this, you've got a good eye for a product."

Arthur gave a modest little shrug. "Call it a lucky break."

"Oh, Arthur. There's no place for luck in business, remember?"

"Whatever it is, it's working. Profit's up five per cent on last month."

"Five per cent? Okay, I admit, that's impressive."

"It should get even better from here on in," Arthur said. "We'll be opening evenings from November. For the late night shoppers."

"And will there be a huge tree in the corner of the shop, and lots of chintzy garlands?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Morgana. Credit me with some taste." Arthur made a mental note to talk to Merlin about keeping the decorations subtle. 

"Well, I have to admit, I'm impressed. There you go, I said it. I shall allow you five minutes to be smug, and then we'll move on."

"Ah, don't speak too soon."

"Really? Trouble at the Tea Rooms?"

"No, everything's fine, except I might be losing my pastry chef."

"Merlin?"

"Yeah. He's had a better offer. Possibly."

Morgana glanced lovingly at the chocolate heaven on her plate. "That's a shame."

"I mean, it hasn't happened yet. It might come to nothing."

She frowned at him. "Arthur, you can't go getting too attached to your staff. Help will come and go, but the business is yours. You know what? I'm glad Uther wouldn't pay for me to go to Business School. It seems to have stuffed your stupid head with some very strange ideas."

"Ideas like 'quality staff are hard to find'? Or 'most good pastry chefs don't want to work in a tea-shop in Berkshire'?"

"Seriously, Arthur. What does it matter? You only have a couple of months to go and you'll be done." She gave him a sly, sidelong look. "Don't tell me you want to _stay_ here?"

Arthur forced a laugh. "Of course not." He felt like a traitor. "It's just that he only has to give a month's notice, that's all." 

"Oh, I see. So your little star could let you down a few weeks before Christmas, right at the top of your trading curve. Well, that is clumsy, Arthur."

"Yes," said Arthur. "It was."

"Well, I'm sure it'll work out. Meanwhile, I gave this a listen." She produced a CD from her bag: the one Arthur had given her at Uther's a few weekends ago. 

"Ah, Gwaine's friend's band."

"Yes. I'm sorry, but we can't give them any time at the moment."

"Oh?"

"They're good, but there's a million like them. Tell them to find something a bit fresh, maybe get out there and do a few more gigs. As it is, I just couldn't get any of the execs interested. Gave it my best shot."

"Okay. Thank you."

"It's tough," Morgana said. "Letting people down when they've pinned their dreams on something."

Arthur took the disc from her and placed it on the table in front of him. The case was scratched from being in too many bags and pockets, passed from person to person, jostled with keys and pens and phones. 

"Yeah," said Arthur. "I suppose it doesn't get any easier."

"It's part of the job. It'll be part of your job, when you get back. I'm just keeping your seat warm, remember?"

Arthur nodded. "Yep."

Morgana leaned back and took another sip of tea, while Arthur stared at the CD and tried to frame the words in his head for telling Gwaine the bad news to pass to his friends. 

"Uncle Agravaine came to see me the other day," Morgana said.

"Yeah?"

"He's been very helpful. He put quite a few deals our way recently. Quite an asset."

"He was very kind to me down in London," Arthur said, slipping the CD in his pocket. "He thinks I should stand up to father more."

"He might be right. Then again, he's not the one who has to face the consequences, is he?"

"That's true," said Arthur with a wry grin. "I don't really want any more of those 'one day you'll be in charge' lectures. I've had them every day since I was born, it feels like."

"I often wonder what he'd have been like if he'd married again. I think being single too long can make a person bitter."

"Oh, really? When are you planning to march down the aisle, Morgana? Is there something you haven't told me?"

Morgana tapped the side of her nose and smiled. "That would be telling."

"Really?" Arthur leaned in, grinning mischievously. "Do tell, dear sister." 

"Don't be absurd, I'm not going to tell you a thing. Besides, it's neither here nor there. I couldn't possibly think of getting married until I've made my first million."

Arthur laughed. "Next year then?"

"What about you? Do you have a love life at all, or is it all business?"

"No, no-one since Oxford. I've just been too busy, what with one thing and another."

"Well, that's no good. I shall have to introduce you to someone."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. Like I say, I'm very busy."

"Nonsense." Morgana winked. "After all, man cannot live on cake alone. Especially if he doesn't even eat cake."

*

Merlin glanced with satisfaction around his pristine kitchen, and unbuttoned his chef's whites. He'd just slipped the jacket over his shoulders when Arthur came in.

"Oh! Sorry, Merlin, I didn't know you were still here." 

Arthur was carefully not looking at him, as though he'd stumbled upon a half-naked girl in a changing room. Merlin grinned at him. "It's all right, Arthur. You're quite safe. See, I've got a t-shirt on underneath and everything."

Arthur blustered a bit and called him an idiot, but still refused to look at him until Merlin had taken his whites off and shoved them in his bag, and there was no removal or adjustment of clothes happening any more. 

Merlin hesitated for a moment. He hadn't seen Arthur in a mood as good as this for a while; it probably made sense to make the most of it. "I had an idea," he said.

"You surprise me, Merlin. What about?"

"An outlet. Sort of. You know the bookshop over the road?"

"Bayards? Yes. What of it?"

"Well, I know the manageress there, and they're having a hard time, and I thought maybe we could help out."

Arthur stared at Merlin, wide eyed. "Help out? Merlin, do you understand that we are a _business_? Businesses don't help each other out, businesses compete!"

"Well, some businesses. But we're not really like that, are we?"

"What? Merlin, you're talking nonsense."

"It's not like we have anyone to compete with, really, do we? I mean, the Rising Sun does food but that's a different sort of thing. And Bayards do coffee but it's just a sideline. Anyway, I'm not talking about charity or anything, but I told Freya - she's the manageress - that perhaps if we gave her some of our cakes to sell on, it would get them more customers."

Arthur laughed a brief, humourless laugh. "You _idiot_ , Merlin! You really don't have any idea, do you?"

"I'm not an idiot," said Merlin. "It's a simple favour. It's not as if we'd lose anything. We'd charge her, just at a lower sort of rate, that's all."

"Really? So, if people choose to go and eat our cake there, and buy books, rather than sitting here and having cake and tea and probably sandwiches and bringing their friends, that wouldn't lose us any money?"

"I don't think you're looking at this very clearly."

"I beg your pardon?"

"People would still come here. They'd just go there as well. And maybe some people, after they'd had our cake there, would come here. It would be a bit like advertising."

"Merlin, you have no idea what you're talking about! Business doesn't work like that! Business is like nature, the survival of the fittest! You don't seek out the weakest of the herd and help it along, you…" Arthur tailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb, eyes squeezed shut.

"You kill it," said Merlin. "Is that what you're saying? That you _want_ Bayards to fail, so you can… what? Expand into the book-selling business? Arthur, listen to your-"

Arthur looked down at the floor, unable to meet Merlin's eye, and muttered, "Something like that, yes."

"What?!"

"It's nothing personal."

"Oh, well that's all right then! I'll tell Freya, shall I? 'You were right about the Pendragons, they're a bunch of greedy, heartless bastards and they're putting you out of a job but it's all right, it's not _personal_ '!"

"Merlin!"

"I thought you were better than that, Arthur. I really did."

"And what the hell does it have to do with you, anyway? Aren't you about to run off into the sunset with your celebrity boyfriend?"

Merlin took a step back, stung. "I hadn't decided. And anyway, that's not the point."

"The point is that it's none of your business. It's mine."

"Right," said Merlin, hauling his bag over one shoulder. "And you don't want me to be a part of it any more."

"That's up to you," said Arthur. "You're the one thinking of leaving."

Their eyes met for one brief, furious moment. Merlin imagined a future without Arthur, without Albion, and for the first time it seemed real. 

For the first time, he could imagine wanting it.

"Yes," Merlin said. "I am."

The door slammed shut behind him.

*

 

Merlin got home to find Will laying out ingredients on his kitchen counter in little bowls. There was a video camera set up opposite the counter next to a huge light, and a reflector propped up on the kitchen cupboards. 

"What's all this for?" he asked, taking his jacket off and chucking it on a nearby chair. "Going into porn?"

"We're going to make your audition tape!" Will said. "I thought you could make apricot macaron and a tarte tatin, just to demonstrate your range." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Do we have to do this now? It's been a long day, I'm really knackered."

"Are you going to be any less knackered tomorrow?"

"Seriously, Will. I had this row with Arthur and it was awful"

"Don't worry about that, I'm going to rescue you from that wanker. Come on, stand here and I'll go and make sure everything's in focus."

Merlin sighed and went to stand behind the counter. A clean set of chef's whites were laid out by the sink.

"You want me to put these on?"

"Unless you think a bunch of TV executives will be impressed by a scruffy guy in a boring blue t-shirt, yes. And lose the scarf as well."

"Can't I even have a cup of tea first?" said Merlin, as he set about getting changed.

"No, I need the light. All you have to do is cook, give a commentary to camera and exude charm."

"No pressure, then."

"Come on, Merlin. Do you want this job or not?"

"Well, actually, to be honest, I'm not quite sure."

Will stopped fiddling with the camera and came over to the counter opposite where Merlin stood, twisting the soft, red fabric of his scarf in his fingers.

"You don't seriously want to stay in that stupid cafe for the rest of your life? With Arthur 'slumming it' Pendragon, making cake for stuck-up middle class women who talk incessantly about their diets as they gobble down five hundred calories of cupcake? It's a fucking _waste_ , Merlin. What do you really want out of life?"

"Apart from a cup of tea?"

Will didn't so much as smile; there was an intense, evangelical gleam in his eye. "You could really help people."

"By giving them something to watch on a Saturday night?"

"This is just the first step! Sure, they'd tune in to be entertained. But they'd get so much more! You'd be showing people to cook proper, healthy food from scratch! To develop some idea of what food should be like! You'd be inspiring people!"

"It all sounds very grand when you put it like that."

"Of course it does! Come on, quick, before we lose the light. Let's get this done and I'll take you out somewhere nice to celebrate."

Merlin tucked his hair neatly under the hat Will had left out for him, and smiled at the camera.

"That's great!" said Will. "You're a natural."

Merlin's smile got bigger.

*

He had fully intended to go calmly into Arthur's office the following day and hand in his notice. But when he got there Arthur and Leon and Gwaine were having coffee, and for all that Arthur looked at him a little warily, he also kicked out a chair for Merlin to join them. 

Merlin knew it wasn't fair to lead Arthur on, but he was still very angry with him. He was almost, pretty much, mostly certain that Will was right and he would be leaving.

But he sat down and drank coffee just the same, and didn't say a word. In a strange and not entirely comfortable way, things almost went back to normal.

He went to see Freya at the end of the week and told her it would take time to work something out with Arthur. She looked worried; he gave her a big hug and told her everything would be okay. 

As he left he paused at a large display of books, arranged around a cardboard cut-out of a sandcastle, scattered with pretty shells.

"Summer reading," said Freya. "Everyone likes a book for the beach, right?"

"Right," said Merlin. "Good thinking!"

Just as he left the shop he glanced back at the display with a smile; his eyes shone briefly gold and for a second the sun shone a little brighter in Freya's shop.

"Good luck!" said Merlin, as the door jangled shut behind him.

*

Still confused and angry and with no idea what to do next, Arthur decided he needed some time away from Albion. Recklessly and to everyone's amazement, he took a weekend off and went to a reunion of his old rowing team at Oxford.

Sophia was small and blonde, and frantic to get Arthur's clothes off. They met in the bar after Arthur's team had won a spectacular victory in the alumni regatta. It turned out they were staying at the same hotel. She decided they'd go skinny-dipping in the hotel pool at two in the morning, and Arthur wasn't about to argue.

Sex in a swimming pool turned out to be a lot chillier and a lot splashier than he had previously imagined. But they did it again in the jacuzzi, which was altogether more satisfactory, and then for a third time in bed, warm sheets and damp hair, and Arthur really rather enjoyed himself.

But still, when it came time to part company and exchange phone numbers, he somehow gave his with just one digit wrong, an old trick he'd learned as an undergraduate to get rid of rowing groupies.

Then he went home to the Tea Rooms, and Merlin, and the miserable and infuriating prospect of losing his pastry chef forever.

*

Merlin came home to find Will in the kitchen, dicing potatoes, his hands a blur as they created perfect little white cubes. "They loved your audition tape!" 

"Really?" Merlin hung his jacket up on the inside of the door. "They didn't think my ears are too ridiculous for television?"

"Dunno what you're talking about, Dumbo."

Merlin poked Will in the ribs on his way to get a beer out of the fridge. 

"They want to interview and they'll make their final decision next month. We'll know then. But don't worry, it's a formality really."

"Next month? Wow."

"Sooner we get you out of that place the better. Like pulling off a scab."

"Are you calling Albion Tea Rooms scabby?" Merlin wrinkled up his nose.

"Nah, not the whole place, just Arthur 'look Daddy, I can be a millionaire too' Pendragon."

"Don't take the piss, Will. He's still my boss. He can't help where he comes from."

Will stopped dicing.

"D'you want a drink?" said Merlin, suddenly desperate to change the subject.

"Why do you care so much about him?"

"Oh, let's not do this again. What's for dinner?"

But Will turned around, eyes flashing anger, his knife still somewhat disconcertingly gripped in his hand. "I said, why do you care about Arthur?"

"I care about everybody." Merlin moved up close, forcing Will to keep eye contact, regardless of the fear that made his hands tremble. "Come on, Will. You promised, remember? No more fights."

He dared a brief kiss to Will's lips, and breathed out the faintest wisp of _~calm~_ …

"Sorry," Will murmured. "Sorry, I didn't…"

He visibly relaxed, the anger leaving him as quickly as it had arrived.

"No problem," said Merlin. "So. What's for dinner?"

"Braised lamb on a bed of mashed potatoes with red onion gravy and seasonal vegetables," Will said, in a bit of a daze. "Tell you what, why don't you make yourself useful and get a bottle of red out to breathe, eh?"

"Good idea. I'll need to pop to the off-licence, I think I'm out of red."

"Hurry back," said Will, all smiles again. "I think we could both use a shower before dinner, don't you?" He waggled his eyebrows.

Merlin grabbed his jacket and left, taking the steps down to the ground floor two at a time. He flung open the main doors and jogged out into the outside world.

The fresh air felt good.

*

Vivianne was very spoilt, very rich and very blonde, fond of clubbing in exclusive nightspots and often found attempting to score minor royals at polo matches. Just the sort of girl Arthur detested. They met at the wedding of one of Morgana's friends, a couple of weekends after his trip to Oxford. She treated him with complete disdain right up until the end of the reception, when she dragged him onto the dance floor. Arthur was drunk, Vivianne was insistent and one thing led to another.

The following morning it became apparent that she'd had a row with her boyfriend and had been trying to make him jealous. It hadn't worked, but she decided that as Arthur Pendragon was heir to the Pendragon fortune, he would actually make a pretty good replacement, even if he'd never been near a polo pony in his life.

Arthur was more bemused than anything, but the sex was good and he couldn't quite work out how to tell her he wasn't interested. She dumped him after three days, citing as the main cause that his nightmares were robbing her of her beauty sleep. 

He barely spoke to Merlin anymore and he didn't see him outside of working hours. Merlin hadn't even been to curry night for weeks.

Will made sure of that.

*

"I like you like this."

"What?" gasped Merlin. "Crushed under your enormous weight?"

Will laughed and pushed up on his arms. The act drove his cock further into Merlin's body, thick and hard. "You know what I mean."

Merlin raised his hand; the tips of his fingers glowed gold and tiny sparks drifted from them to burst on Will's skin, across his chest, over his heart. Will sucked in a breath, eyes closing with the pleasure of it. 

"Yeah," Will murmured. "That's it."

Merlin stroked his magic across Will's skin, teased and tickled him with it, until Will had come, helpless and needy, pushing into Merlin in shallow, desperate thrusts. Once Will had finished, Merlin stuck his hand down between them to pull himself off, the last sparks of magic sinking into his cock and making everything bright and brilliant.

Later, when Merlin was getting dressed for work and Will was still lying naked in bed sprawled out like a lion, Will said, "Does Arthur know?"

"Know what?"

"About your magic."

"No, of course he doesn't. No-one here does. And I'd rather keep it that way."

Will's face scrunched up into a frown of disapproval, making him look older than his years, mean and pinched. "Hiding again, Merlin?"

"You know what happened in Paris. If Arthur found out…."

"He'd do what, exactly?"

"Well, I don't know _exactly_ , but he probably wouldn't want me working in his kitchen."

"Because you're a liar, or because of your gift?"

"Will, don't."

"What exactly is he scared of, anyway? That you're going to seduce him with your magic powers and turn him gay?"

"It doesn't work that way, and you know it. Besides, he's not scared. He's my friend, and he's straight."

"Yeah, right. He doesn't really know who you are, or what you're capable of, but he's your _friend_."

"You make me sound like a monster. It's not like I can leap tall buildings in a single bound or call down fire from the sky or anything. I'm just… popular. And it doesn't work on Arthur anyway."

That was, of course, completely the wrong thing to say. Will's face darkened, his eyes full of hurt. "So you tried."

"No! Well, a long time ago. A very, very long time ago, before I met you, before I even knew what my gift really was. And that's got nothing to do with this. I respect Arthur because he's trying to do something honourable, to make his way in the world with hard work, not sponging off his father. I don't think he'd thank me if he thought I was just magicking everything right for him."

"I don't understand you, Merlin. You waste yourself on this, this posh _idiot_. You can't tell him your secret, you can't be yourself with him - for all you say you respect him you're barely fucking talking to him these days! Yet you let him walk all over you, and you'd rather be with him than someone who truly cares for you."

"Is that so? That's weird, because I could have sworn it was you who was fucking me an hour ago!"

"Was it me you were thinking of while you were doing it?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."

"So that's a no, then."

"Will, stop it."

"Answer me one question, then. When they offer you this job - because they will - are you going to say yes? Are you going to leave this dump and go and make something of yourself? Or are you going to carry on lying and squandering your talents forever?"

Every muscle tight with anger, Merlin didn't answer. He left the flat, slamming the door behind him. It was warm, the autumn sun scattering shadows and golden light across the world in equal measure.

He got to work an hour early and tried not to notice how worried Gwaine looked for the rest of the morning.

*

Elena was different. Arthur met her at a dinner party at Morgana's, a week after he broke up with Vivianne. She owned a very successful independent country hotel in the middle of nowhere which happened to be her ancestral home, but now had a prize-winning spa, a Michelin-star restaurant and was booked for weddings more than three years in advance. Theoretically they should have got on like a house on fire, and they did, at first. She reminded Arthur a lot of his first girlfriend at university: she was one of the lads, down to earth and very pretty.

She was also, fortunately, very kind. After their third date she gave him a peck on the cheek and told him it would be best if they just stayed friends.

They did, actually. Which was nice. It hurt, though, in a way he didn't really understand.

A lot of things hurt, these days.

*

Merlin left Gwaine working on a batch of sherry trifles (hoping most of the sherry would make it into the trifles and not into Gwaine), and called in at Bayards. Freya was in the children's area, tidying up crayons and drawings. She beamed at him when he came in. 

"Merlin! How are you?"

"Fine, thanks. Can I give you a hand? It looks like something exploded." 

"Would you? That would be terrific." Merlin joined her among the books and paper and bits of lego that seemed to have scattered to every corner. "We had a poetry day today, for half-term," she told him. "It was packed, and the kids were so into it."

"That's great!"

"I've never heard so many poems about pumpkins and fireworks and crunchy autumn leaves. It was amazing."

"Good for sales?"

"Yes! Not just kids' stuff either. The main display's nearly sold out again, and I only restocked it last week! You were right, it really does attract attention. I'm thinking of using some of the children's poems for next month. What do you think?"

"Those?" said Merlin, pointing to the work spread out across the low table next to him: carefully pencilled words and colourful, crayoned illustrations.

"Yes. Some of them are really good."

"I think it's a great idea," said Merlin. "Look, why don't you go and get us some coffee. I'll finish up here and put those behind the counter for you."

"Thanks, Merlin," said Freya. "You're so kind."

"Happy to help," said Merlin, with a smile.

*

Arthur was staring at the accounts without really seeing the numbers when he heard the shop door open. He looked up to see who it was; they'd shut half an hour ago and everyone else was still cleaning up in the kitchens. He glanced through the little window in his office to see Leon letting Will into the shop and closing up again behind him. Then Will followed Leon through to the kitchens. A bustle of noise ensued, much of it happy greeting-noises from Merlin.

Arthur sighed.

He was about to get back to work when Gwaine barged noisily into his office and stood in front of Arthur's desk, glowering.

"Hello, Gwaine. What can I do for you? A lesson in knocking, perhaps?"

"I brought you a beer." Gwaine put a bottle on Arthur's desk, keeping another for himself.

Arthur briefly considered saying something about professionalism, but then he caught sight over Gwaine's shoulder of Merlin and Will outside. Will was wrapping a scarf around Merlin's neck, all close and lovey-dovey. Will was kissing Merlin's neck. Merlin was laughing.

"Shut the door and make yourself at home," Arthur said, and snapped the cap off the bottle against the edge of his desk. 

Gwaine kicked the door shut and flopped down on Arthur's couch. "I don't see why he has to paw at Merlin like that all the time," Gwaine said. 

"He's like a dog, marking his territory," said Arthur.

Gwaine wrinkled up his face. "Thanks for the mental image, boss."

"My pleasure. Anyway, you won't have to look at it for much longer. Merlin's got his interview next week."

"I can't believe you, sometimes! Are you really going to let him go?"

"I can't force him to stay."

"You could try being nice to him, so he actually _wants_ to stay."

"I am nice to him!"

Gwaine gave him a shrewd look. "Not in the way Merlin wants."

"What do you mean?"

"You know. Like Will is." Gwaine poured beer down his throat and swallowed.

"What?! Are you insinuating….. Don't be ridiculous! I'm his boss. And I'm straight." The last bit came out as a bit of an afterthought, and not one Gwaine looked to be giving any credence to. Arthur's head hurt.

"You're already like an old married couple, Arthur. I don't see how it would make any difference to your working relationship. It might even make it better."

"Quite apart from being ridiculous and extremely unprofessional, it really wouldn't be fair on Merlin. I'd be manipulating him."

"What, and Will isn't? This isn't all about love, you know. Will wants Merlin for this TV thing because he knows it'll make it a success. You're playing right into his hands. Someone needs to tell Merlin he doesn't have to do what Will tells him. Someone he'll listen to."

"Gwaine, I can't do that. However much I might want him to stay. That would just make me as bad as Will."

"Aha! So you do admit you want him to stay, then."

Arthur glared. "I said 'might'."

"So why not make him an offer he can't refuse? At the moment Will's making all the running, dangling all this fame and fortune under his nose. I don't see how it's 'dishonourable' for you to dangle an alternative. Some people might see it as offering him a proper choice. At the moment you're practically pushing him out of the door!"

"But what if I make him stay? What if he regrets it? He'd resent me forever. At least this way I know I'm doing the right thing."

Gwaine frowned, and sighed, and downed a mouthful of beer. "Well, it's all a bit Casablanca."

"It's nothing of the sort," said Arthur, grumpily.

"All right. Let's say you really are stupid enough to let him go. What are you going to do about a pastry-chef? I'm nowhere near as good as Merlin, not even close."

"I don't know. I was thinking I might buy in for a while. Just until we can find someone good."

"It won't be the same. People come here for the cake, you know. _Merlin's_ cake."

"Yeah," said Arthur with a deep sigh. "I know."

They both watched through the little window in silence as Merlin and Will left the shop, Merlin pausing to give them a little wave.

"Ah, bollocks," said Gwaine, sadly. "More beer?"

"Yeah," said Arthur. "Bollocks."

*

Morgana poured Arthur a generous glass of wine and set the bottle down on the table between them.

"You're in luck," she said. "Not only do you get Sunday tea with me all to yourself today but Father's plane was cancelled. He's staying in the States until Thursday."

"Mmm, pizza," said Arthur, snagging a slice from the box. 

"It certainly makes a change from cucumber sandwiches. Garlic bread?"

Arthur savoured the cheese and garlic and pepperoni, and especially the fact that it felt distinctly sinful to eat junk food out of the box in his father's living room.

"This was a good idea," he mumbled around another delicious mouthful. "Are you moving back here indefinitely?"

"No, just while father's away. It's closer for the office."

"I suppose it is."

"No doubt you'll be moving back too, when you take over from me."

Arthur wrinkled his nose. "Not sure. Might just commute."

"Bet you a tenner you feel differently when you've tried it for a few weeks. It's not so bad. I've taken over an apartment in the west wing, it's got it's own front door and everything. Father gave me free rein over the decor. Should be ready to move in after Christmas."

"That was generous of him. He told me I'd have to pay rent once I was earning."

"He said it was by way of a bonus, for all the money I've made while you've been playing tea parties."

"Be nice, Morgana."

"Well, how is the Empire of Cake?"

"Crumbling. Can we talk about something else?"

"Really? What happened to your plans for world domination?"

"In a word? Merlin. He's almost definitely leaving. And as if that wasn't enough, the Bayards thing is getting complicated too. They're suddenly doing really well. I had a meeting with Mr Bayard yesterday and he's almost doubled the price."

"That's a bit premature on his part, I'd say. Sit tight and wait, Arthur. There's no future in bookshops. He'll come crawling soon enough."

"Probably not before January, though. I'll send you an invite to the 'told you so' ceremony Father will be holding."

"You mean you're giving up? Just like that? Arthur, I'm most disappointed in you."

"I'm starting to wonder why I care. It's not even fun any more."

"Well, I'm not sure it's supposed to be fun, Arthur."

"Is Camelot Media fun?"

A little smile appeared on Morgana's glossy red lips. "Sometimes."

"Albion was, in the beginning." Arthur remembered nights decorating the shop; him and Merlin and Gwen and Lance messing about with paint rollers; Merlin's delight the day the kitchen was finished, gleaming stainless-steel exactly to his specifications. The excitement at their very first customer. Bottles of scotch and football on the TV and Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.

"Morgana," he said. "Do you think I'm straight?"

Morgana almost choked on her wine. "Arthur!"

Arthur mentally scored a point in his head: he'd never seen Morgana look so shocked. "I know. Sorry. It's just… Not having much luck with the ladies lately."

Morgana rallied, and refilled her glass, and Arthur's. "You've never had much luck with the ladies, Arthur."

It was easy to laugh at that. "Fair enough."

"If I were you, I wouldn't let things like that distract me. You've got enough going on. How about we sit down after this and work out a plan for you to persuade this Mr Bayard to give you his bookshop for a song? Would that cheer you up?"

"Well…" Arthur put Merlin very firmly out of his mind and said, "It might."

"I thought so," said Morgana. "More pizza?"

*

 

Merlin hung around awkwardly in the doorway of Arthur's office for a minute or two, waiting for Arthur to notice him. 

Eventually he coughed pointedly and knocked on the door. Arthur looked up from his laptop at last.

"Hello, Merlin."

"I've got next week's menus." Merlin approached Arthur's desk and handed him a sheaf of hand-written pages. "There's a few things in there I want to try out for Hallowe'en as well. Are you all right with cobwebs?"

"Of course," said Arthur, stiffly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Leon said you had a touch of arachnophobia."

"That's a lie! I was very drunk and a bit confused and it was all a misunderstanding!"

Merlin put his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. Just checking."

"In fact, I was thinking of doing a spider theme. You know. For the whole place. Hanging from the ceiling and so forth."

Merlin tipped his head to one side; there was a look of panic in Arthur's eyes that didn't fit his words. "Oh, I don't think that's a good idea. Lots of people are afraid of spiders. I wouldn't want to scare off a customer, would you? I'd say cobwebs are far enough. And by cobwebs, I mean spun-sugar, mostly. Just a suggestion. Maybe a bit of grey candy-floss."

"Ah, I see. Well, yes, then. That sounds fine." Recovered, Arthur skimmed over Merlin's menus. "Good to see the cinnamon shortbread back. That was very popular."

"I'm hoping Gwaine will be able to take that on now. His shortbreads and biscuits have really come on."

"Great," said Arthur. "So. Anything else you'd like to tell me?"

Merlin felt the instant panic of someone who kept too many secrets. "No! No. Why? What?"

"I wondered if you'd heard any more about that job offer. Unless your rude, obnoxious boyfriend has reneged on the deal?"

"Arthur, that's not fair. Or nice."

Arthur shrugged. "Simple enough question."

"Why? Are you going to make me a better offer?"

He'd intended it to be taken lightly, a bit of a laugh to diffuse the atmosphere, because there was, undeniably tension between them. There had been for weeks. And Merlin didn't like it at all.

But Arthur's face was deadly serious. "Regardless of what Gwaine might have to say on the matter, I can't afford to pay you more."

"No! I didn't mean money."

Arthur flushed with embarrassment or anger - Merlin couldn't be sure which and said, "I'm certainly not offering you _that_."

Merlin's panic flared; he seemed to be making a dreadful mess of this. "What? No! No! I mean, that is-"

"Would it make a difference?"

"What?"

"If I slept with you - not that I'm going to - would you stay?"

Merlin resented the way his tummy still flipped at the thought, even after all these years. He really wanted to punch Arthur on the nose, but he'd never hit anyone in his life, and wouldn't know where to start. "That's really crass of you, Arthur. I can't believe you said that."

"Sorry. Yes. Of course. I mean, I'm straight."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said. "That I can't offer you what you need."

"You are a pompous, arrogant twat," Merlin said. "And, actually, I don't think I've decided yet. But if I do stay, it'll be because I like working here. That's all."

There was a pause, and then Arthur said, softly. "Oh. All right."

*


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin sat in the Rising Sun with a large manilla envelope in front of him, and sipped nervously at a glass of lager. The glass had a rather pretentious lime wedge stuck on the rim.

He turned the envelope over, and over again, and again. He squared it up neatly on the table. He leaned back and sighed.

He glanced anxiously at the door, instantly relieved when Gwen and Lance came through it. He got up and waved, nearly spilling lager all over the envelope, and Gwen waved back. She exchanged a few words with Lance, who headed to the bar while Gwen came over to Merlin's table and joined him.

He hugged her tight, suddenly feeling much better just for the smell of her hair and the warmth of her arms around him. "It's so good to see you," he said. "It's been _ages_."

"I know. We've been really busy decorating the new place and everything."

"How is it?"

"Better than it was! I've learned more about roof tiles and plumbing than I ever wanted to know. But we're at the painting stage now, that's much more fun." She slid onto the bench opposite Merlin and squeezed his hand. "How are you? How's Will?"

"Will's good, we're still together and, well…" He tapped the envelope. "I've been offered the job."

"Really? That's terrific!" Gwen hesitated, noticing his lack of excitement and leaned in a little, concerned. "Why am I getting the idea you're not thrilled about it?"

"Oh, I am," said Merlin, and gave the envelope a little stroke. "But the thing is…"

Lance arrived at the table carrying a pint of bitter and a glass of white wine, a couple of bags of crisps caught between his teeth. Gwen helped relieve him of his various burdens and he slid onto the bench next to her. "Hello, Merlin. It's good to see you."

Merlin grinned at him. "Good to see you, too."

"Merlin got offered the TV job, Lance," said Gwen.

"Fantastic," said Lance. "Congratulations!"

"Mmm," said Merlin. 

"Is there a problem?" said Lance.

"There's a thing, apparently," said Gwen. "You were just going to say, what the thing was, Merlin?"

"The thing is," said Merlin, "I don't think I want to leave Albion."

"Ah," said Lance.

"But what about Will?" said Gwen. "Aren't you happy with him?"

"It's not about Will, Will's fine. It's just, I'm settled at Albion. I like working there."

"But this is such a great opportunity! It's _television_ , Merlin. A whole new career!"

"I know," said Merlin, miserably.

"And the money," Gwen continued. "The money, it's… a lot, isn't it?"

"Tons," agreed Merlin. 

"There you are, then. Of course you have to take it." Gwen leaned back and took a sip of her drink, as if all was done and dusted. Lance seemed preoccupied with his beer.

"Since when did you care about money?" Merlin said, suspicious.

"I don't! Not for myself. But this is different. This is about _you_."

Merlin looked from Gwen to Lance and back again.

"Crisps?" said Lance, offering a packet.

"Okay," said Merlin. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on," said Gwen soothingly.

"Nothing at all," said Lance. He opened the crisps and put them in the middle of the table, where they remained, forlorn and untouched, while Merlin watched his friends carefully, and they smiled far too encouragingly.

"You know I don't care about the money and all that bullshit," Merlin said. "You want me to leave Albion. Why?"

Gwen opened her mouth to reply; hesitated, tried again-

"It's Arthur," said Lance.

"Yes!" said Gwen. "You have feelings for him. Bad, unhealthy feelings!"

"I'm with Will," Merlin said. 

Lance and Gwen shared a look: one of those looks between well-established couples that took no more than a second but represented a real-time discussion of about forty-five minutes.

"What I meant was, Arthur can be very difficult to work for," said Gwen. "He can be very unfeeling sometimes."

"Oh, he's not so bad," said Merlin, and then, after a moment's thought, "Well, he can be. He is a Pendragon, after all. But you know how much he's put into Albion, Gwen. You know how well he's treated us all, how much he cares. Yes, he may slip back into old ways from time to time, but his heart's in the right place."

"Oh Merlin," said Gwen. She bit into her lower lip, clearly distressed.

"You have to tell him," Lance said, softly.

Gwen nodded. 

"Tell me what?" asked Merlin. 

Gwen took a deep breath, bracing herself. "Arthur's going to sell Albion."

Merlin's stomach flipped. He heard himself say, "What? No!"

"His father told him he has to close the shop in January. He's to start work at Camelot Media."

"He doesn't have to do what his father says," said Merlin, flatly. "Anyway, he didn't say anything to me. You must have got it wrong."

"I was there when they discussed it. I'm so sorry, Merlin. I kept hoping Arthur would say something himself. It's not right that he should keep stringing you along like this."

"Perhaps he's changed his mind! I mean, not so long ago he was talking about taking over Bayards. He wouldn't have done that if he'd been planning to sell up, would he? And he knows I've been thinking of leaving…."

"Yes," said Lance, gently. "Perhaps he hoped you'd just leave, and then he wouldn't have to tell you?"

"That does make sense," said Gwen. "I think he really does care about you, Merlin."

Merlin stared down at the envelope in front of him, running his fingers softly over the smooth brown paper. Eventually he lifted his eyes and smiled weakly at Gwen and Lance. "If you'll excuse me a moment, I have a phone call to make."

The air outside the pub was chilly, the air thick with damp and wisps of fog. Merlin got himself clear of the gaggle of smokers around the front door, and pulled out his phone. 

Arthur answered quickly, "Merlin?"

"Hi. I, um, have something to tell you."

A pause. "Yes?"

"They offered me the job."

Another pause, longer this time.

"So," said Merlin, closing his eyes tight as sadness and fury welled up inside him. "I'm taking it."

"Oh." He heard Arthur pull in a breath, release it. "I'm pleased for you Merlin. Well done."

Merlin waited a moment, as if still hoping that Arthur might beg him to stay.

"Do you know when you start?" said Arthur.

"A few weeks, I think."

"Well, we can sort out the details when you're ready. I'll see you in the morning, Merlin. Congratulations."

"Yeah," said Merlin. "Thanks."

He lowered his phone and stared at it, watched the screen change, watched Arthur hang up.

A splatter of rain fell on the glass as Merlin started to text Gwen and Lance to tell them he was going home. Didn't feel well. Told them not to worry.

Then he squared his shoulders and walked to the bus stop. An hour later he was in the club. 

It was a Thursday. Merlin drank three shots of tequila, straight, and headed to the dance floor. Men surrounded him, worshipped him, wanted him. 

Merlin closed his eyes and let the music take him. 

*

Merlin fumbled his key into the lock of his front door, shoved it open and stumbled inside. His head ached, his body ached, and he had to be at work in an hour.

He forced his eyes open, took a bleary glance at his surroundings and came face to face with Will.

Will didn't look happy.

"Where the Hell have you been?"

"Out," croaked Merlin, his voice mangled by hours of shouting over loud music. 

"I can see that. You look like death. Who were you with?'

"Nobody. Everybody. Can we do this later? I need to get a shower."

"I tried to call you."

Merlin took his phone out of his pocket and blinked at it. "Didn't hear it."

Will snatched it from him. 

"You turned it off," he said.

"I didn't! It must've done that itself. 'M sorry. I must go and-"

"You were with him, weren't you?"

"Him? Who?" Merlin pushed past Will and headed for the bathroom. Will followed, still gripping Merlin's phone in one hand.

"You know perfectly well who."

"There were a lot of people. You'll need to be more specific." Pausing in the bedroom to strip off his clothes, Merlin shivered from a mixture of cold, hangover and exhaustion, and wished fervently that Will wouldn't yell so much.

"Arthur," Will said. "You were with Arthur."

"No, I wasn't. I can promise you that, from the bottom of my heart. Definitely no Arthur." 

Merlin hopped briefly, shedding socks, and then scampered naked to the shower. In a couple of seconds he was standing under a punishing stream of near-scalding water. It was sudden, unutterable bliss.

"Who was it, then?"

Merlin hung his head. Water pounded on his shoulders and plastered his hair flat. Steam filled the tiny bathroom, delicious, penetrating warmth.

"You had sex, didn't you?"

"Will, don't."

"I can smell it on you."

"No, you can't."

"Oh, don't underestimate me, you nasty little slut! I've got a very acute sense of smell!"

"And I've got a very good memory. I didn't have sex with anybody."

Which was true, unless you counted a lot of grinding and dancing and magic. Which Merlin most definitely didn't.

"Then what the fuck were you doing? Don't lie to me, Merlin."

Merlin stuck his head around the shower curtain. Will was red-faced and livid, his hair curling a little in the steam. 

"You've got nothing to worry about. I handed my notice in at Albion last night. I went clubbing to celebrate. I would have called you, but I thought you were staying in town overnight."

Will deflated a little, struck with sudden uncertainty. "Well, I was," said Will. "I texted you but…" He waved Merlin's phone at him.

"And there you have it," said Merlin. "Gwen and Lance insisted. How could I refuse?"

"Gwen was there?" That seemed to mollify him a bit.

Merlin ducked back into the shower and reached for the gel. "Sorry about the phone. Can we forget about it now?"

There was a pause. Merlin started to soap himself, waiting.

"You really told Arthur you're leaving?"

"Yes. It's all settled."

"Oh. Well."

"Exactly," said Merlin. 

"You're going to sign the contract? Come and work with me?"

Merlin sighed deeply. "Yes, Will. I'm going to come and work with you."

Will flung the shower curtain wide so quickly it ripped at one end, and in a second he was squashed right in there next to Merlin, kissing him hard. 

"Thank you," Will said, slurping wetly down Merlin's neck and shoulder. "You won't regret it, I promise."

Merlin's head tipped back against the wall of the shower and his eyes slid shut. Lust and magic swirled in him, reviving him, replacing fatigue with warm, rich energy. He curled his fingers around the nape of Will's neck, inside his increasingly soaked shirt, and let his control slip. Just a little, at first, just a tiny touch, but it was overwhelming: need and desire, hunger and power. Will sank to his knees and took Merlin's cock in his mouth, and Merlin cried out. 

It was fast, and Merlin wasn't as gentle as he usually liked to be, but Will didn't have any complaints. He clung to Merlin's hips while Merlin fucked his mouth with little restraint, pounding into him again and again. As Merlin came he shared the magic, feeding pleasure in quick, tight spurts down Will's throat.

When he finally pulled back he felt Will shudder, the come streaming out of his cock across Merlin's feet, caught quickly in the swirling water. Merlin's fingers gentled in Will's hair; as he caught his breath he stroked Will's scalp and shoulder. Will stood up on shaky legs and this time Merlin kissed him. Tasted him. Let the last bit of magic sparkle on his lover's tongue.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Will said. "It won't happen again, I promise. I was an idiot. I'm sorry. I love you."

He was swimming in magic; his skin under Merlin's fingers was almost translucent, glowing with the power Merlin had shared with him. Merlin kissed Will's cheek. "I hate it when we fight," he said.

"I know. I'm sorry," Will murmured, and Merlin held him very close.

It was very hard to resist the temptation of a long morning in bed (especially considering some of the things Will had promised to do to him in it), but Merlin was on course to be late for work for the second time in his career, and found that somehow it still mattered to him. Besides, he had the news of his leaving to contend with. He would have to tell Gwaine, and Leon. It wasn't going to be an easy day.

Merlin dragged his clothes on, leaving Will in a smug post-coital stupor on the bed. He gave him a brief kiss goodbye and crept from the bedroom, picked up his jacket and opened the front door, only to find himself startlingly and suddenly face-to-face with Gwen.

"Hi, Merlin!" she said. "I thought you might need this!"

"Gwen!" Merlin blinked at her. She was thrusting an envelope at him; it took him a moment to recognise what it was. "The contract!"

"You left it in the pub," Gwen said, and suddenly Merlin's brain engaged and he bustled her out of the doorway and onto the stairs, closing the door firmly behind him. 

"Sorry, I was out all night, and Will thinks you were with me." He took the envelope from her and shoved it in his bag. "Thanks Gwen. Sorry, gotta fly, I'm late!"

Gwen watched him go, a worried frown etched deeply on her face. 

*

 

_Email from: AGL1@gorloismedia.com  
To: Arthur Pendragon  
Subject: re:advice_

_The decision re: your investment opportunity is entirely up to you, of course, Arthur. I wouldn't presume to give any financial advice, as the catering industry is well outside my usual area of expertise. However, I would encourage you to exclude no possibility: always be prepared to take risks in the long term interest. If in doubt, perhaps rather than asking what I might advise, ask yourself 'what would Uther do?' Your father has always been an ideal example of business at its most ruthless and persistent._

_I am sure that whatever you do, you will make him proud._

_Wishing you all the success you deserve,_

_Uncle A._

Arthur read the e-mail again and again, as if it would tell him exactly what to do, providing he stared at it for long enough.

Finally he stood up, stretched out his aching muscles, and took a stroll to the door of his office. The lunchtime rush was building; nearly all the tables full, Leon moving swiftly from customers to kitchen and back again. Arthur allowed himself a small smile - he'd never have guessed just a few short months ago that Leon would ever make a half-decent waiter. 

Then he saw Merlin, arranging dishes at the serving hatch for Leon to collect. Fussing over details, ever the perfectionist. 

Arthur smiled again, but it quickly faded. 

He turned back to his desk, and read Agravaine's e-mail one more time. Then he picked up the phone and dialled quickly, before he changed his mind.

"Hello, I'd like to speak to the CEO, please. Yes, Mr Bayard. My name is Arthur Pendragon, and I have a matter of mutual interest I am very keen to discuss with him…. Yes, that's right. Pendragon."

He counted the seconds he was on hold: two, three, four, five, six-

"Hello, Mr Bayard! I'm pleased to say I'm in a position to make you a firm offer. Shall we meet? …. Yes, that would be fine. I'll see you then."

Arthur put down the phone and breathed a couple of long, deep breaths.

"Sorry to ask, boss," came a voice from his doorway, startling him. "Can you give us a hand on the counter? It's getting really busy out here."

Arthur turned and met Gwaine's concerned face with a smile. "Of course, Gwaine. I'll be right there."

Arthur closed his laptop with a snap, and reached for his apron.

*

 

The following Saturday Morgana insisted she would pick Arthur up from work and take him to a dinner party with some of her friends. It was the last thing on earth that Arthur really wanted to do at that moment, but there was no refusing Morgana, and he couldn't find anything else to claim to be doing instead. She turned up half an hour early with a clean suit for him to wear (courtesy of Leon, the traitor) and completely dismissed his protestations that he had to finish his paperwork, tucking it neatly in a file and scrawling 'Monday' across it with a marker pen.

Arthur resigned himself to his fate, got changed, collected from the fridge the little box of petit fours and bottle of Sauternes he'd put aside to take as a gift for his hosts, and was all ready to go when Merlin charged into the shop looking like an angry storm cloud.

"Merlin?"

"Arthur," Merlin said, furiously, and then in a far more civil tone, "Hello, Morgana."

"Hello, Merlin," said Morgana, and helped herself to a seat nearby, obviously fascinated to see what might unfold.

"You're buying Bayards," Merlin said, as if he were accusing Arthur of trading nuclear warheads.

"That's none of your business," said Arthur.

"But you are, aren't you? You don't give a fuck about other peoples' lives, do you? It's just a fucking game to you!"

"Merlin, do I need to remind you-"

"I've just spent the last hour and a half with Freya in tears because she'll lose her job and she won't be able to pay her rent and it's all because of _you_."

"That's enough. I'm sorry if that's what she's been told, but it's out of my control."

"Are you going to re-hire her?"

"Merlin, I couldn't possibly say at this stage. There's still a lot of work to be done. The staff weren't part of the negotiations."

"Well, that was stupid of you. Because she's a really great manageress and what the fuck do you know about running a bookshop?"

"About as much as I knew about running a tea shop when I started. In fact, slightly more, seeing as I actually do read books. I'm a fast learner, Merlin, or hadn't you noticed?"

Merlin just stood there, smouldering with rage. There were tears in his eyes and despite everything, Arthur couldn't bear to see that. It reminded him of a bad day a very, very long time ago.

"I think you'd better go," Arthur said. 

Merlin glanced at Morgana, and back to Arthur. "Yes," he said, quietly. "I'm sorry I interrupted your evening, Morgana. I'll see you tomorrow, Arthur."

"No," said Arthur. "I think it's best if you leave tonight. I'll pay you for the rest of the month, of course. You've made your plans perfectly clear and if you're going to go around poking your nose into my business concerns-"

"You want me to leave?" Merlin echoed. "Right now? How the hell are you going to open the shop tomorrow without me?"

"That," said Arthur very firmly, "is _my_ problem."

Merlin drew himself to his full (and not inconsiderable) height, looked Arthur in the eye and said, "Well. Yes. Yes, Arthur, it is."

The door shut behind him, bell jangling with a wholly inappropriate cheeriness.

"Oh dear," said Morgana. 

"He's an idiot," Arthur said, fiddling with his cufflinks.

But to his surprise, Morgana actually looked genuinely worried. 

"What?" said Arthur.

"Arthur, you haven't really bought Bayards, have you?"

"Don't you start," he said.

"No, seriously. Have you?"

"Yes. Well, I've signed an in principal agreement. I'm meeting with the solicitors tomorrow to iron out the final details."

"What on earth are you thinking of? Father's going to kill you!"

"Why? Isn't this how he built Camelot, one deal at a time? I'm rather hoping he'll be proud of me."

"He's already told you he wants you to stop all this and take up the job he's had ready for you pretty much since the day you were born."

"It's not that simple! Uncle Agravaine was right. I have to prove myself first."

"By making a fool of yourself?"

"I really rather resent that, Morgana. I've made a big success of this place."

"You've only been here six months! And one tea-shop is a bit different from a chain of bookshops, Arthur."

"It's not a chain, actually. There are only two left that are remotely viable. The others went under last week."

"That's even worse!"

"No, it's better! I insisted on only taking the viable branches, and I'm not expanding _that_ fast. I'm closing the other branch down and subletting the sales space until I'm ready. But this one has picked up a lot lately. I'm going to refit and use it as an extension of Albion, but keep the bookshop feel. It's actually rather exciting."

Morgana stared at him as though she barely recognised him. "You think you can sublet a high street outlet just like that? And how did you raise the funds for all this?"

"I'm way ahead on my business plan here; the bank were happy to extend the loan."

"You borrowed more money?"

"That's how business _works_ , Morgana. You borrow money to make money, you invest money to make more money. Maybe if you'd been to business school-"

Morgana stood up and thrust her finger at Arthur with undisguised annoyance. "Stop right there, Arthur Pendragon. Remember exactly who it is who's been keeping Camelot Media afloat while you play your stupid little games. If you want to piss your life up the wall, dear brother, that's entirely up to you. But drop the superiority complex right here and now, and I might, just might be able to stop Uther stringing you up from the north turret next time you come home. All right?"

Arthur knew he'd stepped over a line; it was terribly unfair that Uther had given him so many opportunities that hadn't been offered to Morgana simply because Arthur was the eldest and his mother had been Uther's wife. "I'm sorry," he said, with feeling. 

"You'd do well to remember who your friends are, Arthur."

"I know. I'm sorry. Do you really think Father's going to be angry?"

"Probably. I don't know. Maybe not. You'll just have to wait and see, I suppose."

Arthur nodded anxiously.

Morgana sighed deeply. "It's all right, you can drop the hang-dog expression. I'm still on your side. Now, come on, you idiot. We'll be late if we're not careful. Let's put all this out of our minds and go and have some fun."

Arthur really would have preferred to spend the evening alone in his office with a bottle of cheap malt, but he followed Morgana to the door meekly, trying to ignore the fear coiling in his belly at the thought of facing his father next Sunday.

"It's a shame about Merlin, though," Morgana said, as they stepped out onto the street. "I really rather liked him."

"Yes," said Arthur, miserably. "So did I."

*

Sunday tea was worse even than Arthur had imagined. Uther didn't shout at him, didn't bang on the table, didn't humiliate Arthur by documenting his every failure, from the fact that he didn't say his first word until he was eighteen months to the time he got locked up overnight for taking part in a student demo. 

When Arthur told him he had bought Bayards, Uther blinked at him, twice, then set his knife down very precisely on his plate. He got up, excused himself from the table, and left the room.

He came back ten minutes later and gave Arthur a cheque.

"I'll take it off your hands and dispose of it quietly," he said, as if talking of a murdered body rather than a business. "You start work on the first of December. Morgana, will you show him the ropes?" Uther gave Arthur such a cold, poisonous look that it sent a shiver down his spine. "I'm sorry it falls to you to make something of him, but apparently I've overindulged him and he's gone soft in the head."

Arthur stared at the cheque propped up on the teacup in front of him and said, "Father, if I have disappointed you-"

Uther silenced him with a single look.

*

Merlin chose a Wednesday afternoon to go back to Albion Tea Rooms and collect his things. True to form, Arthur had gone out. Leon and Gwaine greeted him with hugs and a cup of tea and a plate of gingerbread men - because they were the only thing Gwaine had made that week; Arthur was mostly buying in now. 

Gwaine waited anxiously while Merlin tasted them, and his face broke into a beaming smile when Merlin told him they were excellent. 

"It's not the same without you," Leon said.

"Not that it'll matter much longer," added Gwaine, smile gone.

"What d'you mean?" Merlin wiped the gingerbread crumbs from his chin and lay his napkin next to his empty plate.

"Hadn't you heard?" Gwaine said. "Arthur's selling up. We'll be closing in a fortnight."

"Really? What about his plans to buy up Bayards and expand?"

"Please don't tell anyone," said Leon. "But it's his father. He put his foot down after the Bayards thing."

"I think it's been Arthur's plan all along," said Gwaine, bitterly. "Just playing at it, rich bastard."

"No," said Merlin. "I mean, Arthur's pissed me off as much as anyone, but I don't believe he wanted this."

"Me neither," said Leon. "I've known him all his life, and I've never seen him as happy as he was here. I haven't seen him as deeply miserable as he's been the past couple of weeks, either."

"One day," said Merlin, "I'll manage to get a job that doesn't end in drama and heartbreak. What will you two do?"

"Don't laugh," said Gwaine. "But I was thinking of getting an apprenticeship at one of the big hotels in London. D'you think I'm good enough?"

"Yes," said Merlin, solemnly. "You are more than good enough, Gwaine. If you want a reference, you know where to come."

"Thanks," said Gwaine. "I'd rather work for you, though. If you ever retire from TV and get a kitchen of your own again…."

Merlin swallowed hard. "Leon? Will you be going back to work for Uther?"

"No, I won't. Uther thinks I failed him on this occasion, seeing as how Arthur bought a whole chain of failing bookshops without me telling Uther what was going on."

"That's not your fault!" cried Merlin indignantly. "How could you have known? And what's Uther got against bookshops, anyway?"

"They don't make any money," said Gwaine.

"It's partly that," said Leon. "But it's particularly bad that it's Bayards Books that Arthur bought. As well as the book-selling business, Mr Bayard's got a lot of other business interests. He and Uther have been fierce competitors in the fibre optics market for several years now. Uther's convinced that Mr Bayard used the sudden cash injection from the sale of his bookshops to buy up some shares Uther had his eye on."

"Oh dear," said Merlin. 

"Still," said Gwaine. "You're all right, Merlin. You're going to be riding off into the sunset with Will! You'll be a star!"

"Yes," said Merlin. "I just wish… is Arthur very upset?"

Leon and Gwaine exchanged a look. 

"Yes," they said, in unison, and then Leon continued. "I've never seen him this low."

"He's really pining for you," said Gwaine.

"He could have found another pastry-chef," said Merlin. 

"Yeah," said Gwaine, and waggled an eye-brow. "If it was a pastry-chef he was pining for."

It took Merlin a moment to catch on to what Gwaine meant, and when he did he laughed. "Arthur's straight," he said. "And doesn't want me. He's always made that perfectly clear."

"The thing about Arthur," Leon said, straightening the knife and pastry fork in front of him, "is that he doesn't seem to have a clue what he really wants until it's gone."

"Well," said Merlin, "I can't be his pastry-chef any more. But I admit, I really would have liked to continue to be his friend."

Merlin collected together his belongings and left half an hour later, promising to supply Leon and Gwaine with tickets to the filming of his show. He went home with the nagging feeling he'd left something behind.

Will was waiting for him when he got in, buzzing and keen to go out to celebrate Merlin's freedom. Tired as he was, Merlin agreed. Going out meant people and laughter and beer. Lots of beer.

Besides. For some reason Merlin didn't want to be alone with Will that night.

It felt all wrong.

*


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur stared out of the window at the shop opposite. Bayards had a for-sale sign on it now. He could see Freya inside, arranging the last few books into a solitary island display, the rest of the shop packed into boxes littered around the shop floor. It was remarkable: nearly every book had sold in the stock clearance sale she'd run over the past few days.

He'd seen Merlin there, once or twice. 

Arthur clutched his keys in his fist so hard they left an imprint in his palm. 

He saw Leon approaching in the reflection of the window, but he didn't turn around. 

"I think that's it for today, Arthur. Gwaine's gone. I told the suppliers to reduce quantities for tomorrow by twenty percent except for the double choc muffins. There's no point ordering things we can't sell."

"Thanks," said Arthur. "You can go."

"Arthur…."

Arthur closed his eyes and let his head droop. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to hear _anything_ at the moment. 

"I'm sorry your father is such an idiot."

That wasn't what he'd expected.

"I never thought I'd hear anything like that from you, Leon."

"Well, one tries to be discreet," said Leon. "But it kills me to see you this way."

It had started to rain, fat drops making their way steadily down the window. "It's kind of you, Leon, but remember it's my father who pays your wages."

"Not any more."

"I'm sorry. I suppose he sacked you because you couldn't stop me making a fool of myself this time?"

"He would have, I'm sure. But I'd already handed in my notice."

"Why on earth would you do that?"

"Arthur…." Leon waited until Arthur had turned to face him before he continued. "I've been by your side all your life. We've been through everything together. Nativity plays, chicken pox, school discos, football matches, girlfriends, exams… and I've been proud to work for you here. You're a good person, Arthur, and my place is at your side."

Arthur looked away from Leon's sincere, concern-filled face and fixed his gaze firmly on the floor just to the left of Leon's feet instead. "That's very nice of you, Leon. But I this isn't a schoolyard fight. I made this huge mistake, and I've let you all down."

"Well, things could be better," said Leon, with a wry smile. "But are you absolutely sure you've made the mistake you think you have?"

"Now you're talking in riddles."

"You must have known it would be difficult to convince your father that you could run a business on your own, in your own way."

"Of course."

"So you were prepared for a fight right from the start. But when did you give up on that fight?"

Arthur leaned back on the windowsill and folded his arms. "Oh, I don't know. About the time my father humiliated me in front of Morgana, and forced me to get my arse back into his company where it belonged?"

"That's just how it ended, not why."

"True. It ended because I'm a moron and didn't realise what a huge mistake I'd made when I accidentally tried to prop up my father's nemesis."

"And why did you do that?"

"Because, ironically enough, I was trying to impress my father."

"And? That wasn't the only reason, was it?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What other reason could there possibly be?"

"Well… and please don't take this the wrong way… Merlin really didn't want you to buy Bayards either, did he?"

"Merlin has nothing to do with this."

"And yet you only seriously went into buying Bayards after Merlin left. Before that you were happy with Albion as it is. Don't forget, Arthur, I've been watching you since we were five years old. I don't miss much."

"Leon," Arthur growled.

"In fact," Leon carried on, regardless, "Until Will came on the scene, everything was going fine, wasn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous! That was a coincidence, nothing more! A painful coincidence, definitely. Merlin's a very talented chef and I knew it would be hard to replace him. But whatever else you're trying to insinuate-"

"You were hurt," Leon said. 

"I was not _hurt_!" Arthur yelled. "He's just a fucking pastry-chef!"

The air was still and silent for a moment, and then Leon said, very gently, "Arthur, please."

Arthur slumped back against the window and covered his face with his hands, heart thumping. 

"It's okay," Leon said. 

"No," said Arthur, bitterly. "It's not okay." He took a deep breath. "He was my friend, and he was a good friend, and I think…. Well, that's not important. What's important is that I should have asked him to stay, and if he'd stayed I would have stood up to my father and I wouldn't have been stupid, and I wouldn't have let you all down, and I probably wouldn't have to go and work in Morgana's pointless office next week. I really wish I could say it's all Merlin's bloody fault. But he tried his best and I wouldn't listen to him and now I've fucked up the only thing in this fucking world I ever really cared about!"

He was breathing hard, everything wretched, and the sympathy on Leon's face was almost more than he could bear.

"Oh God," he whimpered.

"I think there is a way," Leon said, gently. "It's not too late."

"A way to do what?"

"To save Albion, of course. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Arthur nodded. "But it's impossible. My father-"

"Arthur, your father only has as much control over you as you give him. This isn't the dark ages."

"But-"

"Arthur." Leon put a hand on Arthur's shoulder and squeezed. "You're a grown man. You don't have to please your father any more. Don't you think it's about time you started to do what _you_ want to do?"

Arthur looked around him: at the clean, crisp tablecloths, the mismatched chairs and tables he and Merlin had picked out from second hand shops, the menus, the counters which had so recently displayed cakes and pastries so delicious that people would drive through traffic from the next town in their lunch hour to buy them. 

He remembered the Merlin he'd abandoned years ago, dripping in unwanted birthday cake. He remembered the girl who'd dumped him just a few moments before that, the sting of what she'd said to him. _You're a Pendragon, Arthur. How could I ever trust a Pendragon? You'd use me up and spit me out, it's what your kind do. You're not even here because you care about the kids. You're just playing at this._

The injustice of it bristled fresh in Arthur's chest. He'd been so angry. And Merlin had taken the full force of it. Then and now.

_"It's just a fucking game to you."_

Arthur's heart raced; he looked around again, with fresh eyes. The world snapped into focus, crystal-clear. He found himself grinning like an idiot. 

A plan unfurled rapidly in his head; with shaking fingers he pulled his car key off his key ring and tossed the rest of the keys to Leon. "Lock up for me, okay?"

"Why? Where are you going?"

"Merlin's," Arthur yelled over his shoulder, already running to his car.

*

 

Merlin slumped on his bed, rubbing at his eyes, defeated. "For the last time, there's nothing between me and Arthur. He gave me a job, I worked for him for a while. You came back, I left the job. That's all that happened, I _swear_."

"You're kidding yourself. You think that's all it was? How much time have you spent there over the past six months?"

"Will, please. Why do you have to be like this? It's all in your head."

"Oh, really? You think it's all in my head? Then why have you been miserable ever since you handed in your notice? Why are you never home any more? Are you trying to tell me you don't miss his perfect hair and his perfect body, and that stupid bloody way he used to look at you?"

"What, like he wished I didn't irritate him so much? Yeah, I'm _really_ going to miss that."

"Like he wants to fuck you into the middle of next week."

"Oh, for God's sake, Will. That's ridiculous! How many times do I have to tell you? He's straight! Completely and utterly straight! And even if he wasn't, he wouldn't want me. It's over. I never have to see him again! I don't know what else you want me to say. I thought this is what you wanted!"

"Tell me you don't regret leaving."

Merlin opened his mouth to tell Will what he wanted to hear, but something stopped him. If he lied now, he'd always be lying. Anything to keep Will happy and stop him shouting. 

That wasn't right.

So he told him the truth.

"I'm sad about it, okay? I'll miss Arthur, and Gwaine, and Leon, and Gwen. I'll miss being part of something crazy where I have freedom to be myself. A bit of me is sad about leaving, yes."

Will's face crumpled; he looked alarmingly close to tears.

"But it's normal to be sad about change," said Merlin. "If I didn't like working there I wouldn't have taken the job in the first place, would I? But it's in the past now. I chose _you_. I gave it all up, to be with you. Can't you understand that?"

"They don't deserve you," Will mumbled. "Leon and Gwaine and especially that tosspot Arthur. You deserve better, Merlin. I'll take care of you."

Will came up close, stood in front of Merlin and reached down to cup his jaw. "All I want is to look after you," he said. "For you to get the recognition you deserve. For you not to have to hide your talent any more."

Merlin managed a little smile. Will might have an insecure streak a mile wide, but that wasn't the whole story, not by a long way. He really did care for Merlin. He'd always encouraged and supported him, even back when Merlin was barely out of college, just another cocky kid who thought he knew everything. Will had always taken care of him.

Merlin heard footsteps on the stairs and then the doorbell to his apartment started to buzz. It didn't stop; it sounded like someone was leaning on the buzzer. They both went to answer it, but Will got there first.

The door swung open and there was Arthur, out of breath and flushed.

"Oh, it's you," said Will, coldly. "This is a bit pathetic, chasing after him already."

"What?" said Arthur.

"Never mind," said Merlin. "What's wrong?"

"I need to ask you something," Arthur said. "Is there somewhere private-"

Will put his body between Merlin and Arthur, and folded his arms across his chest. "Anything you want to say to Merlin, you can say through me, Pendragon."

Arthur looked astonished, and Merlin wanted to hug him senseless for it. 

"It's all right, Arthur," Merlin said. "Come in. We can talk in the other room."

"No!" said Will. "No secrets. Whatever you have to say, Pendragon, say it right here and now!"

"Will," said Merlin. "Please, listen to yourself!"

"Merlin can make up his own mind about who he wants to talk to and where," said Arthur.

"Yeah, that would suit you very well, wouldn't it?" said Will. "What is it, some sob story about how the shop can't do without him and you're desperate to have him back?"

"And if it was?" Arthur's eyes were blue steel; he barely moved a muscle but something in the air changed, and when the blow came, Arthur was ready for it. He caught Will's hand before it made impact, twisted it and shoved Will's shoulder at the same time, spinning him into a half-nelson.

"Arthur, no!" yelled Merlin. "Stop it, both of you! Now!"

Arthur let Will go but Will just went straight back on the attack: his fist flew, but Arthur was far too quick for him and caught it again. 

"You think you know Merlin?" Will snarled. "You don't know him at all! You've been with him all this time and you haven't the faintest idea who he is!"

"He's a good friend," Arthur said, holding Will firmly. "And he's not bad at making cakes, either. He's loyal and generous and kind, and if you had an ounce of sense in your stupid bloody head, you'd trust him."

Will struggled violently, but it made no difference. "He's also a gay of demonic charm."

"Will, no!" said Merlin, desperate and anxious. "Arthur, let him go!"

"What's that got to do with anything?" said Arthur.

"Don't you know what it means?" said Will.

"What?" said Arthur. "Of course I do. He's gay and… well, popular. So?"

"It's not just a euphemism for a slutty queer, you moron. It's a lot more than that! You call yourself Merlin's friend and you have _no_ idea what he's capable of!"

Arthur looked confused; he let Will go.

"You've gone too far, Will," said Merlin. 

"I just want to show you, Merlin, once and for all," Will said. "If you don't see for yourself what his kind are like, you'll always wonder."

"His kind?"

"Posh boys," Will sneered. "Pendragons. See what he makes of this. Merlin's got magic, Arthur. He's a succubus. Do you know what _that_ means?"

Merlin could see instantly that Arthur did. For a second his eyes flickered to meet Merlin's, shocked - but there was no sign of anger. 

"Will," said Merlin, with a calmness he did not feel. "Get out."

Nobody moved. 

"Now," said Merlin.

"Merlin, don't be-"

"I"m not going to sign that contract," Merlin said. "I don't want to see you again. Please. Just go."

"What? You can't mean-"

"I'm sorry. I made a huge mistake. I don't know what I was thinking. That you'd changed? That after all this time you'd actually be able to trust me? That I could trust you?"

"But you can trust me, Merlin! More than anyone!"

Merlin's eyes filled with tears; Will looked wrecked as the realisation of what he'd done dawned on him: that Merlin was serious.

"Merlin, I'm sorry!" Will wailed. 

"Yes. So am I," said Merlin, gently.

Will turned on Arthur, grabbing his shirt in both fists. "You! Don't you see this is all your fault? He's still in love with you! He's _always_ been in love with you! I never stood a chance!"

"Will," said Merlin, pulling at him. "Don't. Please."

There was a brief scuffle as Arthur pushed Will away and Merlin pulled at him and Will resisted them both, flailing his arms around wildly until he caught Merlin square on the jaw. Merlin squealed with the sudden pain and fell backwards; the next thing he saw was Arthur wrenching the door open and shoving Will through it. 

"You lied to me!" Will yelled, his voice fading as he ran down the steps. "It was him all along! You fucking _lied!_ "

Arthur reached his hand down for Merlin to grab, and helped him to his feet. "I'm sure he'll calm down," he said. "Maybe when you can talk to him rationally, you can sort something out?"

"I think it's too late for that," said Merlin. "But I'm not sorry. I think. Not sorry enough, at any rate. I think."

Arthur looked at him, gentle and kind and a bit lost.

Merlin flung his arms around Arthur's neck, and sobbed.

*

Merlin sat on his kitchen counter, dangling his legs, while Arthur rummaged in his freezer. Merlin was somewhat bemused: an hour ago he'd been about to start packing to go down to London and find a flat with Will. Now he was suddenly single, unemployed and Arthur Pendragon was actually trying to take care of him.

"It'll have to be peas," Arthur said. "I can't believe you don't have any ice."

"I was about to defrost the freezer," said Merlin in a murmur, trying to move his mouth as little as possible. Every time he extended his jaw more than a fraction it sent searing pain up the side of his head. 

Arthur pressed a bag of frozen peas gently to the side of Merlin's face. 

"I'm sorry," Arthur said. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

"There wouldn't have been any," Merlin mumbled, "if Will hadn't been such an arse."

"Well, if you'd listened to me about him in the first place…."

Merlin kicked out a foot and caught Arthur sharply in the thigh.

"Hey!" Arthur's eyes were twinkling, despite his stern expression. "No violence! I'm trying to help."

"I know. And it is. That feels better already."

Arthur touched Merlin's jaw gently, moving up to his cheekbone and around behind his ear. His fingers were cool and surprisingly soft.

"I don't think anything's broken," Arthur said. "We can go to A&E if you want? I'll drive you."

"It'll be fine. I heal fast. But thanks."

Arthur pressed the peas back against Merlin's skin. "Is that a magic sort-of-thing?" he asked, casually.

"Pretty much," said Merlin.

"Oh."

Arthur was very close, and he was showing no sign of wanting Merlin to hold the peas himself. He looked kind and concerned, his eyes impossibly, vividly blue.

Merlin leaned forwards, just a little, and kissed him.

Arthur kissed him back.

It wasn't a reflex borne of shock or surprise. Arthur _melted_ into it, as if he'd got home from a long, hard battle and was sinking into a hot bath. It was a sweet, hot kiss, toffee apples and cinnamon and hot chocolate and… _oh_.

"Are you doing your magic on me?" Arthur asked, his eyes barely open, one hand cupped around Merlin's jaw, still holding the peas in place.

Merlin smiled lopsidedly, half his face numb. "No. Would you like me to?"

"You might have to," said Arthur. "I'm a bit out of my depth."

Merlin shuffled closer, wrapping his legs around Arthur's waist and crossing his ankles just below Arthur's backside. "There's lots of different sorts of magic, Arthur," he said, and kissed him again.

Arthur was shy and sweet, happy for Merlin to take the lead. When Merlin took him to the bedroom and told him to get undressed, he stood there for a bit, lost, until Merlin took pity of him and did it for him. He peeled Arthur's clothes from him slowly, kissing every new bit of him as it emerged: the soft skin on the inside of his wrists and elbows; the hard ridges of muscle across his middle; the juts of bone at his hips. Merlin licked Arthur's belly, dipping his tongue in Arthur's bellybutton until Arthur burst out laughing and batted him away.

Merlin dropped to his knees and took Arthur's cock into his mouth. It felt thick and warm and hard, and Arthurs fingers tightened in Merlin's hair. 

Merlin closed his eyes, and sucked. 

Arthur's thighs quivered with the strain of trying to be a gentleman, and even when Merlin encouraged him, directing him to thrust by guiding his hips back and forth, he moved only a little. He seemed happy to let Merlin do whatever he pleased, and made sweet little gasping noises when Merlin slurped at him, messy and wet. 

When Arthur had relaxed a little, Merlin brought him to the bed, and got the lube out of the bedside drawer.

Suddenly Arthur looked worried again.

"It's all right," Merlin said. "I'm not going to stick anything up your arse, okay?"

"Oh, good," said Arthur, with undisguised relief.

"Not yet, anyway," Merlin added with a wicked grin.

Arthur visibly panicked.

Merlin kissed his neck. "Shhh. It's okay. You like to fuck, don't you?"

Arthur made a squeaking noise and then managed, "Yes."

Merlin straddled Arthur's hips and pressed his dick against Arthur's. "And you want to fuck me?"

Biting his lower lip, his eyes fixed firmly on Merlin's, Arthur nodded. "Apparently so."

"Good," said Merlin, and began to circle his hips.

Arthur watched closely as Merlin lubed himself, and then lubed Arthur's cock, and finally as Merlin steadied Arthur's cock in his fist so he could lower himself onto it. Arthur watched hungrily, and for the first time Merlin sensed the full force of his lust, untempered by confusion or manners or general Arthur-ness. Arthur's lust was red-gold and tasted of syrup and flowed through Merlin as fast as light, as soft as water, flooding him with magic. Merlin gasped - he'd never felt anything like this, never felt the power _given_ to him like this. 

"All right?" he asked, stroking Arthur's face, searching for any sign that this was draining or hurting him.

"Fucking amazing," said Arthur. 

Merlin kissed Arthur's mouth and chin and neck in a frenzy; the magic was building inside him so fast that he could scarcely control it. 

He fed it from his fingertips at first, painting trails of pleasure across Arthur's chest, circling his nipples, sweeping across his belly.

Arthur's eyes went wide. "Is… that..?"

"Yeah," said Merlin, grinning broadly.

"I thought…" Arthur trailed off for a moment when Merlin rolled his hips, fucking himself on the glorious, thick heat of Arthur's cock. "A succubus _took_."

"You've read too many fairy stories," said Merlin. "I promise I won't abandon you as a dry husk in the morning, okay?"

"Okay," said Arthur, and in a bold move cupped Merlin's buttocks, encouraging him to move. "Oh God."

"Yeah," said Merlin. He let his eyes slide shut, tossed his head back, and lost himself.

*

Merlin stretched luxuriously, enjoying the energy, the warm sense of satisfaction. For the first time in his life he felt truly, deeply content.

"So," said Arthur. "It would appear I'm not entirely as straight as I thought I was."

"All things considered, I would say not," said Merlin, trailing his fingertips over Arthur's chest. The magic was quieter, now, just a gentle thrum under his skin. It still gave Arthur goose-pimples wherever he touched him, though.

"Did you do that?" Arthur asked. "Did you make me gay?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Really, Arthur. What do you think?"

"Ah. I'll take that as a no?"

"Of course it's a no. I can't change peoples' sexuality and I wouldn't, even if I could! That would be like changing who they are. I happen to have magic, is all. Magic that feeds on sex. And I'm gay. You're…. Whatever you are."

"I don't feel very gay," said Arthur, frowning.

"You're an idiot," Merlin said. "That's what you are."

"It's like… I could still go a few rounds with Scarlett Johansson, you know?"

"Really? After all this?" Merlin swept an arm to indicate the bed, which had, over the past three hours, become dishevelled in the extreme. 

"Well, not right now, no. Obviously. But, you know, eventually."

"There's a name for people like you," said Merlin.

Arthur tensed. "Is there?"

"Yes. It's called _bisexual_."

"Oh," said Arthur, as realisation dawned. "Oh, yes, I suppose so. Well, that's not so bad, is it?"

Merlin grabbed the nearest pillow and pummelled Arthur with it until he added that being gay wasn't _bad_ , it just didn't fit _him_ , was all.

"So what else does your magic do?" Arthur asked, once he'd wrestled the pillow off Merlin and chucked it on the floor with the others. 

"It makes me attractive. I mean, more than usual."

"So you can seduce people?"

"It's not really like that, it's more… It's a bit like pheromones. It's not anything I do, I just sort of exude this thing that makes men want me. I've learned to control it a lot more now. It was very difficult when I was younger. I can do some other things too, when I've got a lot of energy, like make people feel more relaxed or happy. And I can make things seem more appealing than they might do normally. Well, I mean, not if they're really unappealing to start with. It's more sort of bringing out their inner attractiveness so people can see it better."

"Do you use it on your cakes? Is that why you're such a good cook?"

"No. I swear, I'd never do that! What's the point of being a chef if I cheat all the time?"

"Did you ever use it at work, to bring people into the shop or anything?"

Merlin shook his head. "Never. I knew you wouldn't like it."

"That's true. I really wouldn't."

Merlin watched Arthur's very honest face for a moment, until the rising guilt got too much and he looked away. "I did use it somewhere else, though."

"At the Dorchester?"

"No. But, hmm. You remember how the bookshop was doing really badly. And then it wasn't?"

Arthur sat bolt upright, and stared at him in disbelief. " _You_ did that?"

"Only a little. It was just a glamour I put on the displays Freya did. It just enhanced what was already there. Like good lighting, or an advert. It made people realise how lovely the books were and how much they actually _wanted_ them."

"So you used your magic to stop me from buying Bayard out?"

"To save Freya's job. That's all, I swear."

Merlin held Arthur's gaze; Arthur's anger burned only for an instant. "You could have ruined me."

"It wasn't right, what you were trying to do," said Merlin.

"No," said Arthur. 

That took Merlin completely by surprise. "No?"

Arthur shook his head. "No."

Merlin watched as Arthur took his hand and linked their fingers together. "I had a plan," Arthur said. "When I came over here. I was going to apologise."

"Really?"

"Not just apologise for not fighting for you like I should have. I wanted to apologise for not listening about Bayards, for not being decent to you when you asked me out all those years ago, for the awful, unforgivable things I said."

"Why?" said Merlin, hardly able to believe his ears.

"Because Leon gave me a bit of a kick up the backside, mostly."

"Leon?"

"Hmm. Don't think I'm going to be making a habit of listening to him, I'd hate for him to get big-headed. But I am sorry."

Merlin couldn't find much in the way of words so he kissed Arthur instead, tenderly and softly and with a little touch of power. Afterwards Arthur kissed his neck, put his arms around him and gave him a hug. Firm. Quite manly, in fact. 

"That was a good plan," Merlin said, finding his tongue at last. "Thank you."

"That wasn't the whole plan, actually."

"Did you plan to seduce me with a packet of frozen peas and a few kind words?" said Merlin, cheekily.

"Don't be absurd. I was going to ask you something."

"So? Fire away. I'm all ears."

Arthur touched one of Merlin's admittedly prominent ears and gave away the hint of a smirk. "I was going to ask you if you would have stayed at Albion, if I'd asked you."

Merlin thought for a moment. "I don't know," he answered eventually, honestly. "There was so much going on and things changed so quickly."

"Oh."

"Did you want me to stay?"

"Yes. Very much."

"Well, that's good to hear, Arthur. Thanks."

"In fact, I still want you to stay."

Merlin glanced around the room: there were still Will's things scattered here and there, a wardrobe full of his clothes. Merlin felt a pang of guilt realising how quickly he'd moved on, but it was brief. Arthur's body was warm and solid next to his, as if it was meant to be there. He'd never felt that about anybody before. 

"I suppose I could come back for the last couple of days," Merlin said. "I'm pretty sure I'm unemployed at the moment."

"You could still sign the contract. It'll be with the production company, not Will."

"I suppose. But I think it's better if I don't see him for a while, you know?"

"Well, that's good to hear. Because, well."

"Well what?"

"Well, there's a thing."

"What thing?"

"It's actually the main thing I came to tell you, before you distracted me with your insane boyfriend and the astonishing sex. I'm not selling the shop."

"You're what?"

"I've had enough of trying to be the man my father wants me to be. I'm going to do what I want to do. I'm going to set up on my own, properly this time, no experiments, no games. I want to make Albion Tea Rooms a huge success, and I want to do it with you."

Merlin blinked at Arthur in surprise, fighting back sudden tears. He had no idea what to say, so of course he said the first thing that came into his head, which was:

"Do we get to have sex a lot?"

"Well, yes," said Arthur, looking at him as if he were a complete lunatic. "That would be nice."

Merlin pounced on Arthur, straddling him, leaning over him, letting the magic fizz between them wherever their skin touched, bright and vibrant. 

His voice low, he breathed in Arthur's ear: "It'll be a fuck of a lot more than _nice_ , you bastard."

*


	9. Chapter 9

**Epilogue**

Arthur allowed Merlin to usher him, blindfolded, out of the car, across the street and through the doors of Albion Tea Rooms. He shook the rain off his umbrella (he knew perfectly well who would be mopping the floors if he didn't) and waited obediently by the door when Merlin asked him to. 

There was a lot of whispering (Merlin and Leon), and something smelled good. Arthur realised he was nervous.

"Okay," Merlin said into his right ear. "Surprise!"

He whipped the blindfold off and Arthur stared, blinking, at the scene before him.

There were people. Lots of people - his _friends_ , he realised, with a sudden rush of pleasure - Leon and Gwaine, Gwen and Lance, Elena and even Morgana. And Freya, half-hiding behind Gwen and waving nervously at him. 

"Happy Birthday," said Merlin, beaming, and everyone else echoed him. Morgana was wearing a party hat. He wondered if he was dreaming.

"But we're shut," said Arthur, stupidly. "It's night time."

"Of course it is," said Merlin. "We're going to have birthday dinner."

"Here?"

"Yes, here, stupid!"

"But…"

A kindly looking elderly gentleman with silver hair down to his shoulders put a glass of what smelled like an exceedingly good malt in Arthur's hand. "Drink that, boy. It'll make everything else make sense. Happy birthday!"

"Thank you," Arthur said, bemused. "It looks lovely."

"Thank you Gaius," said Merlin, a huge smile on his face.

"Dinner's ready!" Gwaine pronounced. "Come on, sit down everyone! Leon, kitchen!"

"You did this for me," Arthur said. "Because I said it felt weird not having family around on my birthday."

"I just wanted you to see you _do_ have family," Merlin said. "Come on, sit down. I have to go and organise the first course."

Arthur did as he was told, realising as he downed the delicious whisky in one gulp that this wasn't a dream, it was just Merlin. Life with Merlin was always going to be ridiculous and very hard to be miserable in. 

He rather liked that.

"So," said Morgana, who was sitting on his right hand side. "How's the catering business?"

"Strange," said Arthur. "Won't father be terribly angry with you for coming here?"

"He doesn't know. He's been in the States for a fortnight. I think he's still sulking. He will come around eventually, you know."

"And Camelot Media?"

Morgana smiled her beautiful, if rather smug, smile. "Camelot Media is coming along very nicely. I just finished a rather successful takeover."

"Really? What did you take over?"

"Dear Uncle Agravaine's company. All of it, and at a spectacularly low price, too. I really didn't like the way he stitched you up over Bayards. Especially when a little spy told me that he was planning a rather nasty coup on Camelot Media."

"You have spies?" said Arthur.

"Of course I have spies. How else is a business supposed to operate these days? You really didn't learn anything at the LSE, did you?"

"Apparently not." Arthur noticed Merlin coming back into the room: he was carrying dishes full of good things to eat, and Arthur realised he was very hungry. 

"Anyway, the takeover was extremely profitable for me. So I want to give you this as a birthday present." She offered him a large envelope. "Please don't try to refuse it, because I don't want you to cause a scene in front of your friends."

Arthur took the envelope, and opened it to find a contract and a cheque for a substantial amount. "Morgana, I couldn't."

"It's an investment. In Albion Books. I know you had to borrow a small fortune to buy that stupid shop back from Camelot and it's going to take forever for you to make any profit. But oddly enough, I have faith in you, Arthur. So. Call it a frivolous indulgence from the very grateful CEO of Camelot Media."

Arthur hugged her, wordlessly, wondering why he wasn't fighting. Then he caught a glimpse of Freya out of the corner of his eye. She was helping Merlin make room for yet more dishes of food on the table. Merlin was giving her one of his ridiculous, caring, friendly looks that made Arthur's heart feel dangerous things.

"Thank you, Morgana," he said. "I'll pay you back."

"Of course you will,' said Morgana.

Once Arthur had got control of his emotions again he got to his feet, wondering if he should make some kind of corny speech, or say thank you, or make some kind of public declaration that Merlin was the sappiest, silliest lover anyone could ever have… but Leon coughed in that way Leon had, and brought him back to his senses.

So Arthur simply raised his glass, and said, "To Albion!"

"To Albion!" Everyone replied.

*

Much later, when everyone was gone except him and Merlin, and he was watching Merlin nibble contentedly on the last bit of birthday cake (rich, succulent fruit cake with a warm undertone of whisky, iced with vanilla marzipan and a smooth, flawless fondant, decorated with tiny sugar-crafted cups and saucers and books), Arthur told him about Morgana's gift.

"That'll help," said Merlin. "For a start the dishwasher's shot in the bookshop. We really need a new one."

Arthur sighed a deep, long-suffering sigh.

"Ah," said Merlin. "It's not spending money, then?"

"Not yet."

"That's okay," said Merlin. "We could probably hire someone to do the washing up for half the price."

"A girl," said Arthur, firmly. "I'm not having you getting up to your old tricks."

"Don't be stupid," said Merlin, and stuck a bit of marzipan right on Arthur's nose. 

"You'd better lick that off," said Arthur.

And Merlin did.

~fin~


End file.
